Reasons
by MightyKossak
Summary: Every warrior has a reason for why they fight. During the liberation of the Xykdap occupied world of Ozark, the members of a marine engineer squad, along with the Bolo Phineas, will discover for themselves exactly what that reason is. This was put together as something of an exercise to improve my writing skills. As such, feedback is greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**Reasons**

 **1**

The bunkroom was dark and quiet. Its usual occupants, the members of the 3rd Marine Engineer Battalion's Alpha Company, were all out and about, enjoying the scant hours of R and R remaining, before their next mission began. All, that is, save one. The activation of a holo pendant bathed the room in an ethereal glow. With a sad smile, Carl Matson gazed wistfully into the face projected by the pendent, its soft features bringing the hint of a tear to his eye. She was pretty, in a down to earth way, with long blond hair and gentle eyes, which hid a fire as brilliant as any star in the quadrant. She had always been calm and kind, Carl reflected, but also passionate, passionate about making her dreams, no, _their_ dreams a reality.

And now she was gone.

Now, all he had left of her was this portrait in his holo pendent, an image that conjured up only bittersweet memories of times lost to him forever. He clenched his fist tightly. They would pay for taking her from him. He would make sure of it.

Suddenly, the door slid open, and Carl turned to see the form of Sergeant Hal Abrams silhouetted against the light from the corridor beyond.

"Time to get goin', Carl," Hal said, pointing his thumb down the passageway. "Briefing's in five minutes."

"Roger," Carl replied, as he rose to his feet. "Thanks for giving me a heads up."

"Don't mention it," Hal responded with a smile. "I know you needed some time alone, so I really don't mind you switchin' off the comm, even if it is against regs. Besides, what are old friends for?"

Carl knew it was his good fortune that his current squad leader was none other than his former head of security, back when he had been the director of the agricultural colony upon the world that bore his name. The first few months of any colony's existence was always a challenging time, but also an exciting one, and that excitement had fueled both Carl and Hal's efforts to ensure their colony's success. They had worked quite well together, and Carl considered the older man to be his most trusted friend. Yes, Carl reflected, it had been an exciting time indeed, full of great expectations; expectations the Xykdap had turned to ash. That shattered dream was a bond both men shared, and although Carl's loss was by far the greater, the fact that Hal empathized with it meant that he granted the former colony director a considerable degree of leniency in regard to how Carl chose to deal with the painful memories still haunting him.

"Y'know, Carl," Hal continued, "This being your first mission, and all, well, jitters ain't nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, I remember my first time in combat… I was jittery as a june bug! Shucks, sometimes I still—"

"No, it's nothing like that," Carl replied with a slight smile. "Don't worry about me, this is what I've been waiting for."

Then, lowering his voice, he added grimly, "I was just reminding myself of the promise I made. Reminding myself that I have a reason for being here."

"I figured as much," Hal said softly.

Then, to himself, he added, _And that's what I was afraid of._

 _I awake with a feeling of profound apprehension. The day has arrived. Today, I shall finally fulfill the purpose for which I was created. Today, I shall undertake my first mission as a true Unit of the Line. My personality matrix fills with joy at the thought of engaging in battle, for to defend humanity from all of its myriad foes is the sole reason for any Unit of the Line's existence. I have faced many challenges on my journey to this moment, but now, at long last, I am ready._

 _Opening myself to the Total Systems Data Sharing Network, I am flooded by a torrent of information. Status reports and tactical analyses from my fellow Combat Units, as well as insertion data from our transports' AIs join with a final review of mission parameters, to coalesce into a sensation of overwhelming confidence. We are fully prepared. Now, all that remains is to await deployment._

 _I am eager to begin._


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

As troops filed into the 3rd Marine Engineer Battalion's main briefing room, Sergeant Hal Abrams looked over his command. First and foremost were Marvin Winslow and Vincent Steinworth, the squad's second-in-command and medic, respectively. Hal had known both of them during his previous term of service, and considered them to be good soldiers, although Vincent was rather more aloof and abrasive than what he preferred for a medic. They were also, Hal reflected, with a slight sense of unease, the only members of the squad, beside himself, that had seen any actual combat. The rest of the squad was made up of raw recruits, refugees, who had joined up after their homeworlds had been overrun by the Xykdap invaders. Marcus Bowman was a skilled construction specialist from the rain-soaked, mist-shrouded valleys of Rhinebeck, while Phillip James "PJ" Kyle was a particularly talented demolitionist who hailed from Scarsdale, an agri-world which bore the dubious distinction of being the first world attacked by the Xykdap. Hal was only too familiar with Carl Matson's tragic story.

Unfortunately, while Marcus and PJ were both highly proficient in their areas of expertise, their inexperience with military matters was clear to see, especially in the case of jumpy, easily excited PJ. However, as bad as "Puppy Dog" PJ could be, it was Hal's lingering fear that Carl would pose an even greater problem. Yes, Hal reminded himself, the former colony director was a different matter altogether, for not only were his engineering skills rather negligible, but he seemed to have a dangerous level of hatred towards the Xykdap, along with a lack of personal concern that bordered on the suicidal. These were qualities that seldom mixed well, especially in someone so inexperienced.

All three new recruits had received flash training, of course, but that was still no substitute for the real thing. Since only half of the squad was composed of actual combat veterans, it came as no surprise that many thought of it as a glorified militia unit, and, to a certain extent, Hal couldn't help but agree with them. The unfortunate fact was that the Concordiat was so desperate to muster the necessary manpower for its counterattack that it gladly accepted any willing recruit. Even then, it had still taken about a month to put together a force strong enough to drive the Xykdap out of human space for good. Hal only hoped that it had been fast enough.

The low murmurs generated by the gathered soldiers quieted upon the entrance of Major Norton, and ceased altogether once he reached the podium at the center of the stage and activated the main monitor. Clearing his throat, he began.

"Okay, so here's what we know: A little over two months ago, an alien race known as the Xykdap entered Concordiat space, on the southern edge of the Bonanza Sector. Most of the worlds in that area were sparsely populated, and were able to be evacuated before they were overrun. The Xykdap have since moved on to the more densely populated and strategically important mining worlds of the Calvin Crescent, and that includes our target, Ozark. Due to its position at the nexus of Hyper-L routes to Goliad, Telluride, and Tahlequah, Ozark is the keystone of the region, which is why it's imperative we reclaim it as quickly as possible. In addition, all evidence indicates that the Xykdap are using Ozark as a staging area to launch further strikes, deeper into our territory. This is where their command will be based, and once it's taken out, our reclamation of the remainder of the sector will be greatly expedited."

It was nothing anyone present hadn't already figured out, Hal reflected. Indeed, most had intimate knowledge of the invasion's progress, if not of the invaders themselves. According to info packets and what few first hand accounts existed, the Xykdap were an odd, almost comical species, which resembled nothing, so much as anthropomorphic rodents. As they apparently lacked any kind of visual adaptation, an advanced form of echolocation was employed for navigational purposes. This, combined with their exceptionally large ears, which gave them an appearance similar to the logo of a famous Old Earth megacorp, led to the species gaining the dismissive nickname of "Blind Mice." Still, to anyone living on a small, lightly defended colony, they were hardly a joking matter.

"Since Ozark's population is nearly triple that of most worlds in the Crescent," Norton continued, "only a partial evacuation was completed before the Xykdap arrived. Most of those who remained behind are currently residing in secure shelters, but more than a few joined up with the planetary militia, which by all indications is doing a mighty fine job disrupting the plans of their uninvited guests. This unquestionably works to our advantage, since not only will the Xykdap be in a poor position to offer much resistance, but thanks to intel provided by militia forces, we've been able to ascertain the locations of the principal Xykdap command centers."

The points of interest were displayed on the monitor. Norton then zoomed in on one located on the coast of an island just west of Ozark's largest landmass.

"This was formerly Ozark's primary spaceport," Norton explained. "It is currently serving as the Xykdap's planetary headquarters. As such, it will be the focus of our first assault. Company A will be assigned to this strike, while Companies B and C will remain in reserve. All relevant mission data has been uploaded to the tactical net. You've got ten minutes to review it before reporting to your respective assignments."

With that, Norton stepped down from the podium, and the low murmurs recommenced, as each of the various squads took note of the roles they would play in the impending operation. Hal's squad was no exception to this, with the sergeant himself being the first to speak up.

"Mama Bear," he swore under his breath.

"What is it, sir?" PJ asked apprehensively. "They're not sticking us with the first wave are they?"

"They sure as hell are," Hal replied, "and that's not the worst of it. Take a look at who the commanding general is."

Marvin's eyes widened as he read the details for himself.

"No way," he breathed incredulously, "Bulldog Bell? Isn't he still supposed to be wiping out Kaclac strongholds in the Hamilton Sector?"

"Apparently, that wasn't exciting enough for him," Hal replied disdainfully.

"Who's Bulldog Bell?" PJ asked.

"Who's Bulldog Bell?" Marvin echoed contemptuously. "Why, he's only one of the worst officers you could ever wind up serving under."

Hal watched as PJ's face grew rapidly paler. Marvin probably should have applied a little more restraint when dealing with someone as emotionally fragile as PJ, he reflected, even as Vincent made a bad situation worse, by adding, "He is a boorish and simpleminded man, a brutish throwback to the barbarian warlords of Old Earth, who cares only for mindless violence. I would have hoped that by this point in its evolution, humanity might have weeded such primitive specimens out of the gene pool. Still, I suppose they have their uses…"

"Yeah," Marcus spoke up, "to teach new recruits the meaning of the term 'cannon fodder.'"

As reluctant as he was to admit it, Hal knew that pretty much everything the three men had said was unfortunately true. General Thaddeus "Bulldog" Bell was infamous for his bloodthirsty nature, and this, along with his equally infamous recklessness, made most soldiers dread being involved with any operation under his command.

 _Hell, I can't imagine a more rotten situation for novices to be in,_ Hal thought bitterly.

He knew that Bell preferred to employ rapid strikes to deliver brutal hammer blows to the enemy. However, while these blows could be devastatingly effective, they also left his forces vulnerable to possible enemy traps and counter attacks. No, it was most definitely _not_ a good situation for novices to be placed in, not at all. Still, Hal ruminated sullenly, it wasn't as if they had much choice.

"One of the worst?" PJ whimpered. "Cannon fodder?"

He began to sweat profusely.

"I don't believe it, of all the horrible luck. I was always afraid I was gonna die on my first mission, and now it's pretty much a—"

"That's enough," Hal cut in. "I won't be hearin' that kind of talk, not from members of this squad, anyway. We might be in a bit of a bad spot right now, but that doesn't mean we can start fallin' apart. If we stick together and focus on the mission at hand, we'll all pull through this just fine."

It might not have been the absolute truth, Hal reflected, but it succeeded in quieting his squad's concerns, and that was the important thing. He only hoped that the mission to come would be resolved as easily.

 ** _The sublime contemplation of the multifaceted glory made manifest by the Lord of All is shattered by a cacophonous outburst, which resounds throughout the spectrum. Refinement quickly discerns the source: soft life, flesh forms whose furry fingered grasping and chitterling screeches stand in stark contrast to, and utter mockery of, the transcendent geometric beauty and transfinite harmonic resonance displayed by the Lord of All. It is clearly apparent that something has agitated the soft ones, something not immediately perceptible._**

 ** _Expanding the zone of awareness to ever-higher spectral stratum, and casting that awareness across the entirety of the sphere yields further examples of soft life, both of the kind first discovered as well as a new, and subtlety different form. Still, neither of these developments serves as a satisfactory cause for the urgent sense of alarm, which crudely resonates from the soft life in the immediate vicinity. Probing outward into the void surrounding the sphere at last reveals the source: a loosely organized array of metallic shells, which recently arrived from a trans-luminal stratum, and has now begun attacking the shells already in place around the sphere._**

 ** _At first, the shells appear lifeless, as they are seemingly devoid of any form of resonance that might indicate conscious thought. However, a deeper probe reveals the presence of soft life ensconced within them. Such an affront to the Lord of All must not be allowed to exist on any spectral stratum, and in the proper time, these abominations shall be dealt with. For now, however, observation continues._**


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

The interior of the dropship was cramped, the battlesuited squad taking up nearly all of the available room. However, in the minutes preceding launch, Carl's thoughts were not of claustrophobia, but of the past. Of a memory that all too often came unbidden into his mind. It was of the day he had arrived at the refugee center on Bonanza, after the evacuation of Matson's World. The day he had been told… He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth to block out the pain, something he had been unable to do then, when his life suddenly became a dizzying whirlwind of shock, anger, and soul crushing despair. Fortunately, Hal had been with him, had gently guided him outside the crowded refugee center, until he had regained some measure of composure. It was there that Hal had told him that he would be rejoining the Marines, and there that Carl had decided to follow him. Most importantly, it was there that he had vowed to avenge the death of the woman he loved, a vow, which had led him to this very moment.

"Attention passengers," the cheerful voice of Pete Mulligan called out over the comm, "this is your highly trained and ever-helpful pilot speaking. We'll be launching in about sixty seconds, so make sure you're all secured nice and tight back there."

"That said," he continued, "with the fleet engaging the measly collection of ships the Dappies have in orbit around our destination, I predict today's flight'll be a smooth one. I give it a 9.5 on the Mulligan Meter."

"How reliable is that?" PJ asked nervously.

"Not very," Marvin replied. "Just to get below an eight, there needs to be a gaping hole in the side of the craft."

PJ gulped. He still looked very pale, and Carl found himself wondering why the timid young man had even joined up in the first place. He was about to offer him some words of encouragement, but just then, launch lights flashed, and the ten-second countdown began. Scant moments later, the dropship was hurtling through space towards the planet below.

Upon entering the atmosphere, the primary attack formation swept in low, over the sparkling waters of Ozark's largest ocean. Traveling at over two thousand kilometers per hour, it took the nearly one hundred dropships and their twenty gunship spearhead scarcely a minute to reach their objective. Xykdap anti-air defenses tried desperately to blow them out of the sky, but a missile barrage from the leading gunships destroyed them before they could get off more than an initial volley, which was easily countered by the gunships' ECM and point defense systems. While the gunships launched a second salvo at the Xykdap's entrenched position, the first wave of dropships landed and disgorged squads of battlesuited infantry and heavy armor units. The beach was already fairly crowded when Hal's squad finally disembarked.

"Okay friendos," Pete called out, "this is your stop! Make your way to the hatch in an orderly fashion, and remember to watch your step while exiting."

"You heard him, people!" Hal shouted. "Let's move!"

They piled out of the dropship and into a scene of frenetic activity. As the squad headed to its assigned position, Carl struggled to take it all in. There were the gunships, using their missiles and hellbores to obliterate the Xykdap's bunkers and various other fortifications with contemptuous ease. Then, there were the dropships, which were deploying units in a near continuous stream. Most of these were battlesuited infantry, like his own squad, but some were amphibious heavy armor. Regardless, they were all steadily advancing towards the increasingly less intimidating Xykdap position, while portable battle screens were deployed to absorb any potential return fire. And there, at the forefront of the assault, was General Bell, barking orders into a command uplink. Currently, he appeared to be directing a heavy weapons squad to take up position behind a sandy berm, apparently in an effort to discourage a Xykdap counterattack. It seemed a bit like overkill to Carl, for surely even the "Blind Mice" weren't dumb enough to send infantry against such a formidable concentration of firepower. But then, to his utter shock, he watched as they did just that.

Hurriedly vacating their charred and burning entrenchments, a horde of Xykdap infantry, lead by what Carl supposed had to be an officer of some kind, scurried across the beach towards the Concordiat forces.

"A fascinating evolutionary development," Vincent observed approvingly. "Such an utter lack of fear! Granted, it is, in all likelihood, due merely to the presence of an officer, but even so, that still displays a remarkable level of control."

Then, in a lower voice he added, "One step closer along the path to the perfect lifeform."

"For all the good it's doing them," Carl replied disdainfully.

Indeed, they didn't get far, before the heavy weapon squad's trio of infinite repeaters opened up, cutting through them like a hot knife through butter. The force of the weapons' fire was so great, that in some cases, the Xykdap were literally cut in half, their power armor offering no protection. Fountains of alien blood filled the air, and Carl's mouth formed a savage smile. He had long desired to see the Xykdap suffer, and he reveled in the slaughter playing out before him. Nor was he the only one to take pleasure in the brutal spectacle. General Bell gave a shout of exultation, as the Xykdap infantry were mercilessly cut down.

"That'll teach those overgrown rodents, by thunder!" Bell roared.

He was grinning from ear to ear, and obviously taking great delight in the crushing defeat his forces were handing their adversary.

"See that?" He inquired of his command staff, as another Xykdap bunker violently exploded. "That's how it's done! Yes, this really gets the blood pumping, don't you agree, Colonel?"

"Oh, of course, sir," Colonel Brooks replied drolly.

Brooks was considered by many to be the complete antithesis of his commanding general. Where Bell was loud, proud, and highly aggressive, Brooks was more cautious, subdued, and perhaps even a bit refined. He was also quite obviously displeased with being Bulldog Bell's second-in-command, which, it was commonly theorized, was probably why the general kept him around in the first place. Indeed, it was a widely held belief that Bell wasn't truly happy unless he was making some poor bastard suffer.

"Damn it, man," he growled at Brooks, "then show some blasted enthusiasm!"

He gestured to the advancing troops and armor.

"We've got them on the run, by thunder! Their most heavily defended position on this planet, and we'll take it in less than twenty minutes!"

Bell gave an exasperated sigh, then with a hint of melancholy, added, "I almost wish they'd have put up a bit more resistance…"

"You can say that again, sir," Major Thorp replied despondently. "This really wasn't much of a fight."

In contrast to Colonel Brooks, Major Tiffany Thorp held General Bell in high esteem, although unlike her idol, she hated any battle that wasn't a challenge.

"Well, Major," Bell replied, "let's hope that things will be a bit more exciting when we get to their home planet."

"But sir," Brooks began, hesitantly, "all reports indicate that the Xykdap homeworld was conquered by the Jyncji, hence their intrusion into our territory."

"Exactly," Bell said, with a menacing grin.

Suddenly, there was a monstrous splash, which heralded the arrival of a truly massive war machine. Its gargantuan form rose from the sea to loom over the troops and vehicles arrayed before it like a metal mountain. As it advanced, two squadrons of heavy tanks parted to create a wide lane, in order to facilitate its passage onto the formerly congested beach. No sooner had it left the water, then a second monstrosity emerged, quickly followed by a third. They proceeded inland at a slow, almost stately pace, extinguishing the last of the Xykdap resistance with ridiculously little effort.

"Bolos," General Bell practically spat the word.

His dislike of humanity's greatest fighting machines was well known. It was Bell's firm belief that wars should be fought by men, not machines. In fact, he had often insisted on operating without Bolo support, citing that reliance on a Bolo to bail them out of tough spots would deprive his forces of their fighting spirit. They would lose their edge, Bell insisted, fighting in the shadow of the inhuman supertanks. However, it was probably far more likely that Bell himself felt overshadowed, for in addition to their massive size and combat ability, the Bolos lay outside of his direct command, and General Bell had never been able to entirely trust anything he couldn't control.

"You!" he shouted at the third machine to come ashore. "What in blazes do you think you're doing? This is my operation, by thunder, and you have no right to disrupt it like this!"

The metallic titan came to a halt, and swiveled an optic lens to face the human officer. Carl stared at the confrontation in stunned disbelief. While he had seen Bolos before, and indeed, even worked with one, they were all of old, long-obsolete marks, and although they had been large, they were all dwarfed by the Mark XXIV, which currently dominated the beach. Even in his heavy battlesuit, General Bell looked comical in his impotence.

 _He's got to be insanely brave to stand up to a monster like that,_ Carl thought to himself. _Or insanely stupid…_

If the Bolo even deigned to provide an answer, Carl was sure it would be in the overly patronizing manner one would employ to pacify a petulant child. However, when the Bolo spoke, it surprised Carl with its humble subservience.

"My sincerest apologies, General Bell," it began, "it was never our intention to disrupt your operation here in any way. However, my brother Bolos and I have been tasked with providing our assistance in the elimination of hostile forces on this island, and as Units of the Line, we must carry out all our assignments to the best of our ability."

"Assistance?" Bell asked incredulously. "See here you overgrown tin can, I never asked for your assistance, and I don't need your assistance! My troops took care of this base before you and your friends even showed up!"

"Yes, your forces have indeed performed most admirably," the Bolo replied, "and it can clearly be seen that you require no further support from us. However, assisting you was merely one of our objectives. We have also been tasked with securing this island for use as a planetary HQ for Concordiat forces. Following this, we shall then assist in assaults upon the Enemy's secondary command posts, three of which can be easily reached from this location."

"Still," the Bolo continued, "it is most perplexing that such limited resistance has been encountered thus far. One would assume the Enemy would provide their principle command center with significantly more formidable defenses. However, as you have said, your forces were able to take this position with relatively little effort. It all seems to have been resolved far too easily."

"How dare you!" Bell roared. "How dare you insult the brave warriors under my command! They achieved a great accomplishment here, by thunder, and I won't have some overgrown tin can devaluing it!"

"No insult was intended," the Bolo replied. "I only wished to bring to your attention a notable observation, one which is increasingly likely to be of vital significance to all Concordiat forces on this island. Indeed, there is a 98.7652 percent probability that the Enemy's behavior here points to their desire to lead you into a—"

Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and the Bolo's words were drowned out by the sound of a massive explosion. All eyes looked up through tinted helmets to see a blindingly bright fireball expanding from the zenith, and Carl watched as it rapidly covered much of the sky. Then he noticed his battlesuit's rad gage. Although still within safe levels, it was steadily increasing by the second, leaving little doubt as to the nature of the unexpected blast.

"A thermonuclear missile," the Bolo pronounced. "Strength estimated at approximately forty megatons. I offer my sincerest apologies that I did not detect its approach sooner. I am ashamed to say that my sensors do not appear to be functioning at full effectiveness, a deficiency I shall rectify at the earliest opportunity. Fortunately, the missile was intercepted by one of my brother Bolos before it could reach its target, although fallout from its premature detonation will render this a less-than-optimal location for our planetary headquarters."

"I don't need some tin can with delusions of grandeur to tell me the effects of a nuke, by thunder!" Bell blustered. "I want to know where the hell that thing came from!"

"Although it employed baffles to hide its exhaust and heat signature, my tracking systems indicate that there is a 98.9926 percent probability that it was launched from an island located 129.2381 kilometers to the northwest of our current position," the Bolo answered. "It would appear that the Enemy has hollowed out the interior of the island's volcanic peak, and utilized stealth technology similar to that possessed by their missiles to remain undetected by our admittedly limited orbital scans. Furthermore, the substantial volume of the mountain shielding the installation's vital areas from attack will necessitate a considerable application of—"

"This isn't a lecture hall, by thunder," Bell shouted angrily, "it's a battlefield! I've got more important things to worry about than your prattle, like turning that base into a smoldering cinder!"

"Agreed, General," the Bolo replied. "It is highly probable that this is the site of the Enemy's true command center, thus its elimination must be given the highest priority. Indeed, I believe that I can facilitate—"

"We can take care of this ourselves," Bell snapped. Then, turning to his command squad's communications tech, he bellowed, "Cranston! Get me some immediate orbital and air support to take out that base!"

Signaling an affirmative, the commo tech fiddled with the controls of his long-range uplink in an effort to reach the fleet in orbit. After about ten seconds, he made contact, exchanged a few words, and then cut the connection.

"Sorry General," Cranston said apologetically, "no joy. The Dappies had a fleet of battlecruisers hidden behind Ozark's second moon. Our guys'll sort 'em out just fine, but they can't break away to give us any support down here. At least, not in time to matter, anyway."

"Damn, should've known these rodents would be sneaky bastards…" Bell grumbled. "Well, then, that just leaves our gunships. Get them on the horn and—"

"That would be a most unwise course of action, General," the Bolo cut in, displaying a greater sense of urgency than it had previously. "Their weapons do not have the strength necessary to penetrate the target's defenses."

"And I suppose _you_ have a better solution?" Bell asked angrily.

"I believe that I do, General. My primary weapon is a 90-centimeter Hellbore, capable of generating destructive energy at a rate of two megatons per second. With this level of power, and depending on numerous secondary factors, it will take me approximately 5.0238 seconds to utterly eliminate the enemy position."

"Then what are you waiting for, you stupid machine? A hand written invitation?"

Merely your permission, General Bell. You spoke earlier of respect, and respect is precisely what I have strived to give you. However, you continue to show none to me, and this is something I can no longer abide. I am not a 'tin can' nor am I a 'stupid machine.' I am a Bolo, Unit 896-PHN of the Line, although you may refer to me as Phineas. And now, General, I shall eliminate the assigned target."

Before Bell could provide a retort to the Bolo's admonishment, Phineas swiveled his massive primary turret to point towards the volcanic peak, barely visible on the northwestern horizon. Less than a second later, the Hellbore fired. Carl watched in awe, as a glowing beam of pure annihilation shot out towards its distant target. A split second later, the beam made contact, and at first, there didn't seem to be any noticeable effect. Then, the island suddenly vanished in a brilliant explosion, which lit up the horizon with its infernal radiance. After the fireball had dissipated, a towering mushroom cloud could clearly be seen rising from the island's former location, an ominous tombstone to mark the violent demise of the Xykdap command base.

"Target eliminated, General," Phineas announced. "However, there is a 98.9983 percent probability that the detonation will produce a tsunami, which itself has an 88.9872 percent probability of being large enough to endanger the forces currently deployed on this beach. I advise immediate withdrawal to higher ground, preferably via airlift."

"Is that so?!" Bell roared. "You couldn't possibly have explained that this might happen before you opened fire?"

"There was no time for debate, General. The base's immediate destruction was of paramount importance. There is even less time for debate now. As I said, there is a 98—"

"I don't want to hear any more of your blasted probabilities!" Bell shouted. Then he turned to his commo tech. "Cranston! Get on the horn to all dropships. Tell them we need immediate evac! Now, damnit! There's no time to lose!"

With a swiftness that rivaled the assault force's rapid deployment, the dropships swooped in and picked up infantry squads and vehicles in quick succession. Carl watched in awe as the beach was rapidly cleared, and then with a growing sense of urgency, once he noticed the ocean begin to dramatically recede from the shore.

"All aboard, friendos!" Pete called out, as he set his dropship down in front of them.

Carl was just about to climb aboard, when he heard General Bell shout, "Hold it! I'm commandeering that craft!"

As Bell's command squad rushed past him, Carl began to protest, but Hal pulled him away before he could say anything.

"Look, I know it ain't right," the sergeant told him, "but as the commanding officer of this operation, Bell's survival takes precedence."

"But what about us?" PJ cried out, frantically.

"Take the next one!" Bell shouted back, as the dropship began to ascend.

Unfortunately, as far as Carl could tell, there wasn't going to be a "next one." A wall of water was rapidly approaching, and none of the remaining dropships seemed willing to risk getting swept away by it, in order to rescue the small handful of infantry still on the beach. Carl was in the midst of pondering whether or not his battlesuit would allow him to survive the tsunami's impact, when Phineas' voice sounded over the comm.

"Fellow warriors of the Concordiat," the Bolo announced, "you may take refuge atop my war hull. There is ample room for all."

Carl didn't hesitate. Activating his jump jets, he leapt atop the giant war machine, the rest of his squad doing likewise. A second later, the wave struck, a watery fist of churning foam, which crashed against the Bolo and covered the gathered infantry with a deluge of spray. To Carl's amazement, he barely felt a thing, the rushing water simply breaking around the immovable object that was Phineas's war hull and progressing deeper inland, sweeping the remnants of the Xykdap's base before it. He had scant moments to savor the awesome sight, before he once again heard the booming voice of General Bell.

"Attention engineers! That might have been more action than you've seen in your entire lives up till now, but I want you to stop gawking and listen up! Once that water recedes, get down there and decontaminate the area. I don't want to detect even a single rad on this island! Then get to work on setting up our planetary HQ. You've got thirty minutes, so get moving!"

 _Thirty minutes?!_ Carl fumed. _Of all the unfeasible…_

"Don't worry, Carl," Hal told him reassuringly, having obviously seen the frustration on his face. Then, placing a hand on his shoulder, he added. "I'm sure we can finish it in twenty five."

Thirty minutes later, the base was up and running. As he strolled down one of its newly constructed corridors, Carl couldn't help but be impressed at the speed with which the combat engineers, his own squad included, had completed the massive facility. Prefab buildings aided the process considerably, of course, but there was still a pronounced difference between simply setting up a structure and bringing that structure to life. It engendered the sense of awe that could only be felt when one watched an expert perform their craft. He chuckled and shook his head at the stupidity of such a whimsical thought. Still, he reminded himself, such feelings were not without reason. In the days when he had been the director of his own colony, such thoughts would often enter into his mind, for he had always taken great joy in the work of creation. But now…

"Hey, Carl!" A voice called out, dissolving his musings. Carl turned to see Marvin approaching, along with PJ and Marcus.

"Job's finished," Marvin said with a smile. "No reason to keep wandering the halls like a shell shocked zombie."

"Marvin's right, man," Marcus added. "Take a breather with us and get some chow."

"You know," Carl said, as a smile began to creep across his face, "that sounds like a great idea."

The four men entered the mess hall to find Hal reviewing some files on his pocket computer. Carl figured that they had to be pretty important, since the sergeant was so engrossed, that he only noticed his subordinates when they sat down at his table.

"So, we've already got another assignment, huh?" Carl asked.

"Yep," Hal replied. "Command wants us to check out a mining complex, up in one of Ozark's larger mountain ranges. Make sure there aren't any Blind Mice hiding out in there."

"And if they've already split, look for any surprises they might've left behind," Marvin added.

"Right," Hal confirmed. "Command's also decided to assign us a local guide, someone who's familiar with the topography of the region we'll be operating in."

"So who are we getting stuck with?" Marcus asked contemptuously. "Some weedy nature lover who doesn't have any business being anywhere near a fight?"

"First off," Hal replied sternly, "there's not gonna be any fighting. Our orders are strictly to observe the location and assess its threat level, not engage enemy forces in combat. As for our guide, she's apparently an experienced member of Ozark's planetary militia, so she should be able to take care of herself."

He pulled up her dossier.

"Here she is," he announced. "Sergeant Hanna…" His voice trailed off as he stared wide-eyed at the file displayed on the screen.

"Mama Bear," he whispered.

"What is it?" Carl asked apprehensively.

When Hal didn't respond right away, Carl and his squad mates got up to see for themselves exactly what had the sergeant so unnerved. Just one look at the name displayed at the top of the dossier, and the cause for Hal's unease became immediately apparent.

 _Mama Bear is right,_ Carl thought to himself. _If that name means what I think it does, then this mission just got a lot more interesting…_


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

Sergeant Hanna Abrams watched as her squad took up position. They had arrived at the city of Oakville less than five minutes earlier, their strike skimmer having pushed its not inconsiderable engines to their limits, in order to overtake the Xykdap force, which even now closed in around them. Her squad had barely gotten out of the skimmer, when the speedy ground effect vehicle raced off, and disappeared around a corner, on its way to rendezvous with the 12th Rapid Strike Squadron. They were supposed to have arrived nearly an hour ago, which would have given them more than enough time to prepare, but their pilot, Jack Hawkins, just _had_ to use one of his infamous "shortcuts." This time, it was a small stream, which emptied into Oakville Bay. Unfortunately, that stream happened to pass by a recently constructed Xykdap outpost, and Hawkins was forced to lead its hastily launched pursuit skimmers on quite the merry chase, before he was certain he'd lost them. That had cost roughly thirty minutes, but to his credit, Hawkins had kept them on schedule, if only just barely.

Hanna knew that precise timing was critical to the success of this mission, and she wasn't about to let her squad be the one to throw that timing out of synch. Still, the trip had been far from pleasant, and even now, she couldn't decide which was worse, Hawkins's truly heart-stopping piloting, or Maddie Marino's ceaseless pleading for permission to blow up the Xykdap outpost with one of her latest toys.

The youngest member of the squad, Maddie wasn't even out of her teens, and often had the maturity of someone even younger. However, although she might wear her emotions on her sleeves, she was a natural when it came to explosives, and that expertise was in high demand these days. Hanna looked over to where the demolitions expert was happily conversing with Buzz, her robotic assistant and best friend. As Maddie excitedly explained the planned effects of all the traps the robot had just finished emplacing in gruesome detail, Hanna shook her head and, not for the first time, found herself questioning the girl's sanity.

 _At least she's in a good mood now,_ Hanna thought to herself. _That's got to count for something._

Maddie giggled, as she hugged Buzz tightly, and Hanna couldn't help but smile.

"Don't you think you might be having just a _little_ too much fun?" she asked.

"Of course not!" Maddie replied cheerfully. "There's no such thing as too much fun, _especially_ when you're blowing some Rodents to bloody little bits!"

Strangely, Hanna found that she couldn't really dispute that sentiment. The Rodents, as the Xykdap were derisively called, were undeserving of her sympathy. _They_ were the aggressors here. _They_ were the ones who had invaded her home. Unlike some of the more xenophobic members of Ozark's population, Hanna wouldn't have minded if the new arrivals had whished to coexist, after all, there was plenty of land to spare. However, the Xykdap weren't interested in coexistence, only conquest. That had been their first mistake, for while frontier worlds like Ozark were lightly defended, the Concordiat was staggeringly vast, and once it mustered a military response, the Rodents would be swept away like twigs in a raging river.

Of course, in the meantime, it was up to planetary militia units, like hers, to let their guests know that they were most definitely _not_ welcome. Since the militia wouldn't stand a chance in an open engagement, equipped, as they were, with long-obsolete hand-me-downs from the Concordiat military, they had accomplished this through a campaign of guerrilla warfare. It had been quite successful so far, and after a series of hit and run attacks, punctuated by feats of spectacular sabotage, the Xykdap were finding Ozark to be a very difficult prize to keep.

 _And it's all led to this,_ Hanna thought.

When militia high command had received word of the imminent arrival of a Concordiat relief fleet, they had hastily concocted an ambitious plan to support its attack. The plan called for the ambush of the three largest concentrations of Xykdap forces on Ozark's primary continent, and Hanna and her squad, along with five additional infantry units and a strike skimmer squadron, were making ready to perform their part of that plan. Today would mark the largest offensive yet, in the war to liberate Ozark, and if all went well, the planet would be free by sunset.

"All finished here," Tom Waterstone announced. "Have Shelby and the Baxters checked in yet?"

"Shelby has, but I haven't heard anything from the Baxters," Hanna replied.

"Want me to give them a wake up call?" he asked.

"Thanks, but I think I'd like to take care of it myself this time," she answered, with a sly smile, as she activated her headset communicator.

Tom returned the smile and gave a small nod.

The squad's medic, and nominal second-in-command, Tom was an invaluable asset in keeping the squad's more easily distracted members on track. However, there were times when Hanna actually enjoyed performing that task herself, and this was one of them.

"Tony! Paul! Are you knuckleheads in position yet?"

"Roge-O," Tony's laid-back voice answered. "Sorry, about the delay, darlin'. My brother was havin' some trouble rememberin' where he placed the comm."

"You slanderous sleaze!" Paul bellowed in the background. There was the sound of a scuffle, then, Paul spoke again. "I must apologize for my brother's deception. It was due to his slovenly nature that the comm was momentarily misplaced. I assure you that—"

"Slovenly?!" Tony bit back. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? You've still got bits of your last meal ration stuck in your—"

Hanna muted the volume and rolled her eyes.

While not quite as troublesome as Maddie, the "Bickering Baxter Brothers" still produced their fair share of problems for her to deal with. The two siblings couldn't have been more different. Tony was a lanky lay-about, who entertained delusions of being something of a ladies man, while Paul was a burly brawler, who, surprisingly, aspired to become an actor and poet. Where Tony could never be bothered to take anything seriously, Paul lived his life with an intensity of purpose that most found quite intimidating. It was completely understandable that two such individuals would be hard pressed to ever get along, however, since joining the Ozark militia, they had apparently managed to do just that, at least, to a point.

Currently, the two brothers operated the squad's portable infinite repeater, and during every mission, they worked together as an exceptional team, providing much-needed support fire. Unfortunately, after the fighting had concluded, they went right back to antagonizing each other, much to Hanna's annoyance. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out if their animosity was serious, or just an act they had designed, to get on her nerves. More than likely, it was a little of both.

"Listen up!" she yelled into the comm. "You know damn well, that I don't have time for your crap right now. Things are going to start popping in just a few minutes, and I need to be sure you're fully aware of your role in this plan."

"Cool your thrusters, darlin'," Tony replied. "We know what needs doin'."

"Undeniably true," Paul added. "In summary, the 12th Rapid Strike Squadron will launch a series of hit and run attacks, designed to lure Xykdap contingent alpha into Oakville's central metropolitan area, where they will be ambushed by our squad, in conjunction with squads led by Sami O'Tool, Brook Nelson, Ronald Braddock, Tim Marrick, and Ed Bennson. Our squad has the honor of taking point in this ambush, which will begin when Shelby Campbell eliminates the Xykdap command vehicle. Following this, various hidden explosive devices will be detonated in a precisely determined pattern, throwing the Xykdap into complete disarray. Only then, are we to open fire ourselves."

"As you can see," he concluded, "there is no need for concern."

"Glad to hear it," Hanna replied. "You just better make sure you keep your finger _off_ that trigger until _after_ Shelby fires her first shot."

"You should be more concerned about Shelby _making_ that shot," Tony warned. "If she shoots anything like my brother…"

"It is _my_ brother you should be concerned about her emulating," Paul shot back.

In truth, there really wasn't much cause for concern. Shelby was the best sniper on the planet, and had yet to miss a shot, no matter how difficult it had appeared. Her rifle helped of course, since even a second-hand sniper rifle contained enough targeting systems to guide a round to even the most precise target locations, and the round itself was essentially a small missile, complete with its own propulsion and guidance systems. However, one of the Xykdap's signature technologies was a powerful EMP field generator, capable of shutting down, or at the very least, scrambling most electronics. Of course, the equipment used by the Concordiat military was shielded against it, but the Ozark militia wasn't so fortunate. Luckily, Shelby's extraordinary sharpshooting skills more then compensated for the lack of reliable technological assistance. Hanna knew she could count on the sniper, and she only hoped her confidence in the Baxters was equally well placed.

"Don't let me down boys," Hanna told them, and then switched off the comm.

"I wouldn't worry too much about them, Hanna," Tom said encouragingly, "they've never let us down before. I'm sure they'll be ready when the show starts."

"Speaking of, we should probably get ready ourselves," Hanna pointed out. "Maddie, why don't you put Buzz in his case now? You don't want him floating around out here when the Rodents decide to activate one of their EMPs."

"Right!" Maddie acknowledged. "Come on Buzz, in you go."

The delicate robot settled itself neatly inside the heavily shielded case, where it would be protected against nearly anything the Rodents could throw at it.

"Aww… Look at you all nice and snuggly," Maddie tittered, as she closed and secured the case.

Meanwhile, Tom checked his chronometer.

"The skimmers'll probably be engaging the Rodents any time now," he announced.

"Let's see how they're doing," Hanna suggested.

Activating her headset's HUD, she linked in to the view provided by Jack Hawkins's strike skimmer, which, along with the other squads' skimmers, was assisting the 12th Rapid Strike Squadron in its attempt to bait the Xykdap forces arrayed around Oakville. As Hanna watched, the ground effect vehicles zoomed in for another attack run. In the span of five seconds, they had closed to within firing range, unleashed a fusillade that destroyed two light tanks and three squads of infantry, and disengaged before any weapons could be brought to bear against them. The Sylph Strike Skimmer might not be very tough, Hanna reflected, but it was fast, and surprisingly heavily armed. The Rodents had no effective counter to it, for even their EMP generators needed time to power up, making them useless against the "shoot and scoot" attacks favored by the militia strike skimmers, and their own skimmers were no match for the superior human craft, or the militia pilots' expert knowledge of Ozark's terrain. After launching another attack, which claimed a heavy tank and two more squads of infantry, the skimmers raced back towards the city, the Rodents hard on their heels. They had taken the bait.

 _That's right, Rodents,_ Hanna thought, as a fierce smile spread across her face. _Come and get it._

She shifted views to the other squads taking part in the ambush. They were all in place. _Good._ Then, she shifted to the Baxters, who were stationed in a building at the head of a T intersection, which looked down Oakville's main thoroughfare, and provided their infinite repeater with an excellent field of fire. They also seemed ready, their animosity apparently quelled, for the time being. _That only leaves Shelby._

"Goodie, the show's about to start," Maddie said gleefully, "and we've got the best seats to watch it!"

Hanna knew that wasn't exactly true, for while they did overlook the main thoroughfare, down which many of the Rodents would presumably be moving, they were only on their building's third floor, and much of the ambush would be obscured by the surrounding structures. If anyone had the "best seat," it was Shelby Campbell, who had a commanding view of the entire city, from her perch in Oakville's tallest tower. Through her HUD link, Hanna could see that the sniper was calmly tracking the lead elements of Xykdap contingent alpha, patiently waiting for her target to come into range.

That target was the contingent's command vehicle. Officially designated Algernons, and nicknamed Big Als, the Rodents' command vehicles were variants of their standard heavy tanks. They were protected by thicker armor, carried two hellbore equivalents, instead of the usual one, and boasted advanced commo and sensor gear. Most important, however, was the officer who would almost certainly be riding in the vehicle's copula.

What little had been learned of Xykdap society told that it was very hierarchical in nature, with its leaders held in such great regard that their presence during any activity would lead to a drastically increased effort on the part of their subordinates. The Xykdap military was no exception to this. High-ranking officers needed to be visible symbols, in order to fully inspire to the troops under their command, and so frequently rode in exposed copulas, making them excellent targets for enemy snipers. They weren't completely without protection, of course. They always wore protective body armor, and their vehicles were often equipped with small battle screen generators. Unfortunately, this level of protection wouldn't do much against an advanced sniper rifle in the hands of an expert, as Shelby Campbell swiftly proved.

A split second after pulling the trigger, her shot found its mark and punctured the hapless officer's head like a balloon. Then, before any of the Rodents could even register their commander's messy demise, a second shot hit what must have been the vehicle's power plant. The Big Al's entire rear end erupted in a blowtorch of flame, rocketing the vehicle forward into dozens of unsuspecting infantry, crushing many under its substantial bulk. The driver was apparently still alive, as just before it was about to ram a light tank, the Big Al wildly slewed away, towards one of the abandoned storefronts. The resulting crash succeeded in halting the Big Al's uncontrolled rampage, but only for a moment. Mere seconds after it had come to rest, the mortally wounded vehicle exploded, the blast incinerating nearby infantry, and badly damaging a heavy tank.

"All right, Maddie," Hanna called out. "That's the signal! Hit it!"

"You got it!" Maddie responded cheerfully, as she pressed a prominent red button on her control pad.

With that, a cacophony of detonations played counterpoint to Maddie's hysterical laughter, as plumes of smoke and geysers of flame suddenly sprouted all across the city.

"It's even more beautiful than I imagined!" the demolitionist cheered, as she wiped a tear from her eye.

Through her HUD, Hanna could see the details of the charges' effects. Caught completely unawares, the Rodents had been decimated, burning vehicles and bodies were strewn everywhere, and, by her estimation, it looked like over half of contingent alpha had been eliminated.

 _All according to plan,_ Hanna thought approvingly.

The surviving Rodents were now visibly shaken, including those in the street below Hanna and her two squad mates. Having lost nearly all cohesion, they began a confused retreat. However, they wouldn't be given the chance to get very far. Hanna, Tom, and Maddie opened up with their power rifles; the deafening report of the weapons overshadowed a split second later by the banshee shriek of the Baxters' infinite repeater. The Xykdap infantry fell in droves, their power armor offering little protection against the deadly torrent unleashed upon them. Limbs were blown off by the dozen, and geysers of blood sprayed everywhere, as the Rodents were sliced apart and perforated with gaping holes the size of a human fist. The light tanks fared little better, as the high velocity rounds shredded their relatively thin armor. Hanna watched the unfolding carnage with grim satisfaction. While she didn't consider herself a butcher or sadist, she had seen far too many good people die over the course of the Rodents' invasion for her to pity them now. Maddie, of course, didn't even _try_ to suppress her enthusiasm.

"Wow! Paul and Tony are shredding them like a meat grinder! And look over there! Those three are trying to scurry away!" She quickly armed the grenade launcher slung under her power rifle. "Three blind mice, see how they run," she sang, as she took careful aim on the fleeing figures.

Hanna saw the three Rodents as well, but she also saw something else, a blur of motion, which rounded the corner directly ahead of them. An instant later, it resolved itself into the threatening form of the Rodents' last remaining heavy, the barrel of its main cannon pointing directly at her.

It fired.


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

Hanna barely had time to scream "Down!" before the blast struck. The world exploded into a kaleidoscope of noise and rubble, as the building shuddered, on the brink of full collapse. Miraculously, it held together, and even more miraculously, from Hanna's point of view, she was still alive. Cut and bruised a little, perhaps, but alive nonetheless. She knew she should have been vaporized, along with most of the building. The only explanation she could think of at the moment was that something must have spoiled the heavy's aim at the last possible second.

The shaking subsided a moment later, and Hanna cautiously looked around. To her relief, everyone seemed to be okay, but then, she hard Maddie gasp.

"Oh no, Buzz!" the demolitionist cried out in alarm.

Hanna followed her terrified gaze, and, sure enough, it led to where Buzz's travel case was laying in the street, amidst a pile of rubble. Of course, the robot would be completely safe inside the protective case, but Maddie apparently didn't see it that way. Even now, she was racing down the slope of rubble to where the case had fallen.

"Don't worry Buzz," Maddie called out. "I'm coming!"

For a moment, Hanna could only stare in utter disbelief at the insanity she had just witnessed.

"You have got to be kidding me," she groaned. Then, she leapt up after the young demolitionist.

Sliding down the pile of rubble, amidst a patter of power rifle fire, Hanna reached the street mere seconds after Maddie had grabbed hold of Buzz's case. Scooping them both up, she dragged them behind a large slab of rubble. Once she was sure they were safe, Hanna glared at Maddie, who was still hugging the case.

"Mind telling me just what in the world you thought you were doing?" she asked angrily.

"I was saving Buzz," Maddie replied, as if it were perfectly obvious.

"That's our Maddie," said an amused voice.

Hanna looked up, and saw that Tom had joined them behind the slab.

"You got here fast," she told him approvingly. "Maybe now we can think up a way to get out of this mess."

"Well, on the bright side, their heavy seems to have found someone else to bother with, at least for the time being."

Hanna carefully raised the scope of her rifle over the edge of the slab and saw through her HUD that he was right. The heavy had taken a major hit on its left flank, and the crippled vehicle had now turned to engage its tormentors, which left only a single light tank and roughly two squads of regrouped infantry to deal with.

"Still, their fire's getting pretty heavy," Tom pointed out, as some shots zinged around their hiding place. "It won't be long before they have us pinned."

"Then I guess now's the time to make a run for it," Hanna replied, as she unclipped a grenade from her bandoleer. "Think you can give me some covering fire?"

"You got it," he confirmed.

"Wait!" Maddie broke in. "Try this," she suggested helpfully, as she held out an odd-looking, spherical device.

Hanna looked at it skeptically. Then, she looked at Maddie, whose eyes said that she'd be very upset if Hanna didn't accept her offer.

"Do I even _want_ to know?" she asked the demolitionist.

Maddie giggled.

"Let's keep it a surprise," she said, with a mischievous smile.

Against her better judgment, Hanna took the device with an exasperated sigh, and got ready to peer over the edge of the slab.

"Just press the red button when you want to throw it," Maddie instructed.

Hanna nodded, then, giving Tom the signal to open fire, jumped up and hurled the device into the midst of the Xykdap infantry. No sooner had it hit the ground, than it activated, to startling effect.

At first, there was simply a low hum, and a swirling of rubble and dirt. The Rodents paused to study the device, more curious than alarmed. All too quickly, however, the low hum built to an ear-shattering shriek, which rivaled even the Baxters' infinite repeater, and the infantry closest to the device began to be pulled inexorably toward it. In the span of mere seconds, all of the Xykdap infantry were yanked off their feet and sucked into an increasingly more compressed clump of bodies, centered on the device. Tighter and tighter the mass of armored bodies was squeezed, like tinfoil in a giant's fist, until it resembled little more than a lumpy sphere. As the device's power continued to build, the light tank also began to be dragged towards that horrible sphere, wrapping itself around the crumpled corpses, as the powerful forces unleashed by the device warped the vehicle beyond all recognition. Even the heavy could not escape the device's deadly grasp. Its massive, blocky form was violently squeezed and pressed into the ever-shrinking mass of the device's previous victims, until the entire horrific conglomeration was compacted into a tiny spheroid, about the size of a pebble. It was only then, that the device switched off.

Hanna simply stared, dumbfounded.

"Okay Maddie," she asked dazedly, "what the hell was that thing?"

"A high powered gravity pulse grenade, just like the ones the Concordiat military's supposed to be testing," Maddie answered, proudly. "But I call it a crumply bomb!"

"Crumply bomb?" Tom asked. "Seriously, that's what you're going to go with?"

"Yep!" Maddie said cheerily. "It just sounds like so much more _fun_ that way!"

Hanna barely heard them. She figured she was still in shock after the horrific sight she had just witnessed. _What a way to kill something… Even Rodents don't deserve to die like that._ Still, the device had served its purpose, the sounds of combat had ceased, and there were no longer any visible targets. Hanna exhaled loudly.

"Well, that looks to be the last of them," she said tiredly. "It might be jumping the gun a bit, but I think we can call this mission a success."

"You can say that again!" Tony said over the comm. "I don't know what you did, darlin', but hot damn and holy shit, that was somethin' else!"

"It sure was," Hanna replied, with a hint of melancholy. "Listen guys, hang tight until I check in with the other squads. If the battle really is over, I'll call Jack to pick us up."

"I'm getting some chatter over the net right now," Tom announced. "By all accounts, it seems the city is clear of hostiles, and the squads are regrouping for pickup."

"Any casualties?" Hanna asked.

"None reported," Tom replied. "We really lucked out today," he added, glancing at Maddie, who was in the process of removing Buzz from his case. "This could have easily turned out a lot worse."

"I know," Hanna replied quietly. Then, with a slight smile she added, "All too well."

Tom responded with a smile of his own. He looked like he was about to say something, probably a few kind words of encouragement, Hanna suspected, as was typical of her ever-supportive second-in-command, but a high-pitched whine interrupted him. It didn't take Hanna long to discern its source. A command skimmer, flanked by four strike skimmers had rounded the corner of the T intersection and was rapidly approaching.

"Looks like the Colonel's decided to congratulate us personally," Tom commented.

"Yeah," Hanna replied, with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. "Lucky us."

Although she didn't exactly feel any particular animosity towards him, Colonel Roland was infamous for his flamboyance, and after everything she had recently experienced, Hanna wasn't in any mood for it. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like she would have much choice, for even now, the Colonel was proving that his reputation was well deserved. Striking a triumphant pose atop his command skimmer, his officer's cape billowing behind him, even Hanna had to admit that Colonel James Roland made for an impressive sight. With his finely trimmed crimson beard, and his roguish smile, he looked for all the world like a modern day Robin Hood, a dashing hero straight out of an adventure story. This was just as well, Hanna thought, as that was precisely how he saw himself.

Leaping from the skimmer before it had even come to a full stop, Roland landed nimbly, and made his way over.

"Well, if that wasn't a successful mission, I don't know what is! Hanna, you and your squad did an exceptional job." He gave her hand a hearty shake, then added, "The Rodents sure got treated to quite a show!"

 _That's one way to describe it,_ Hanna thought, as horrific images of crumpled Rodents continued to enter her mind, unbidden.

"I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that the other two ambushes were also complete successes," Roland went on. "And that's not even the best news. According to a report I just received from central command, the relief fleet arrived a little over an hour ago. They've already crushed the Rodent's fleet, knocked out their HQ, and routed most of their ground forces. Oh, and get this, word is, they brought three Mark XXIV Bolos with them."

"Three?" Hanna asked, with obvious surprise. "Isn't that overkill?"

"You bet it is," he replied. "Hell, just one of those things could've liberated this whole planet single handedly, but you know the Concordiat military, they're pretty much the definition of overwhelming force."

"I guess that's it then," Hanna said, with no small measure of relief. "The war's over."

"Sure looks that way," Roland agreed, then added, "At least, aside from a few mop up operations. Which, incidentally, brings me to these."

He held up a data card.

"Those would be…?" Hanna asked, fearing that she already knew the answer.

"Your new orders," he replied. "Straight from the top."

He handed her the card, and she inserted it into her pocket computer.

"Apparently, the all-powerful Concordiat military needs a little local support," Roland explained, "so they're reassigning you to work with one of their engineer units."

Hanna read over the details, noting that the unit in question was a squad belonging to the 3rd Marine Engineer Battalion, and her eyes widened momentarily when she saw the name of the sergeant who commanded it. Then she looked back up at Roland.

"So these guys need our help, huh?" she asked derisively. "Don't they have units of their own to provide escort duty?"

"Not exactly," he said, somewhat apprehensively. "They don't need your squad, Hanna, just you."

 _Me?! What would they need me for?_ Hanna thought to herself. She was about to ask just that, when the high-pitched whine of yet another skimmer engine caught her attention.

It was Jack, and he had brought Shelby along. The sniper jumped out of the side hatch, as the skimmer slid to a halt, and headed towards them.

"And there she is," Roland called out. "The hero of the hour!"

He gave her a drawn-out handshake, and treated her to his most charming smile.

"I hear we have you to thank for much of this operation's success."

"Thank you sir," she replied somewhat embarrassedly, "but that's a bit of an exaggeration. My shot wouldn't have mattered much if Maddie's explosives weren't in just the right places. It was really a team effort."

"True enough," Roland conceded. "Still, that shot of yours was pretty impressive, and everybody loves a hero, especially such an attractive one."

Shelby blushed.

"Colonel's got that right, little darlin'," Tony agreed, as he strolled over, with Paul close behind. "I can see it now, Sharpshootin' Shelby, Hero of Oakville. Why, pretty soon, your beautiful face'll be gracing victory posters all over Ozark."

At this, the sniper's face turned an even deeper shade of crimson, and she began to look increasingly uncomfortable.

While she was usually cool, collected, and utterly fearless, Shelby was also somewhat shy and withdrawn. Always something of a loner, she didn't particularly enjoy being around people, or attracting too much attention. Unfortunately, her good looks didn't help in this regard, and all too often, she found herself being hit on, much to her annoyance. However, of all her admirers, Colonel Roland was probably the worst. He had an obvious crush on the attractive sniper, and was stubbornly persistent in his pursuit of her affections. The fact that Roland was such a high ranking officer made Shelby's predicament an even more problematic one. Still, Hanna was determined to end this latest attempt at romance as quickly as possible, regardless of any personal repercussions she might incur.

"That'll be enough of that, if you don't mind," she cut in, handing Tom her pocket computer. "Shelby's already made it clear that she's not interested, so I'd appreciate it if you'd both stop harassing her." Then, lowering her voice, she added, "Though I'm sure Maddie would love the job."

They all turned to look at the demolitionist, who was standing on tiptoes, in an attempt to see the screen of Hanna's pocket computer, which Tom was currently reading. Hanna knew they were all thinking of the same thing, namely, the public relations nightmare that would inevitably result from having a media spotlight shone on someone as hyperactive and cheerfully sociopathic as Maddie Marino.

"You know," Roland began, with no small hint of nervousness, "now that I think about it, there's probably a better candidate in one of the other squads. Sami O'Tool perhaps…"

"An excellent choice, if I may be so bold," Paul agreed. "Indeed, Sergeant O'Tool's squad was so efficient in the elimination of hostiles in their assigned zone, that they were even able to engage a heavy tank that was threatening Sergeant Abrams's position."

"Paul's right," Hanna added. "They really saved our butts back there."

"And Sami's a redhead," Roland mused, as he stroked his beard contemplatively. "Redheads always present a more striking image on posters anyway…"

"Well then, that settles it," Hanna declared. "I for one think Sami will make an excellent poster girl for the Battle of Oakville."

"Indeed she will," Roland concurred, slamming his fist into his open palm. "I'd better go and tell her the good news."

"Speakin' of news," Tony cut in, "did I hear that you're bein' reassigned, Sarge?"

"You did," Hanna replied dejectedly. "Supposedly, high command wants to stick me with a squad of engineers, though I can't imagine what good I'd be to an outfit like that."

"Looks like they need a local guide," Tom explained. "Someone who knows the lay of the land."

"Right," Roland confirmed, "and that's a job description with your name written all over it, Hanna."

"Yeah, and I'll bet you made sure to tell high command just that," Hanna added, with a wry smile. "You know, a few good words into the right ears and whatnot."

He grinned. "I wouldn't say yes, and I wouldn't say no."

Despite her slight annoyance at Roland's behind the scenes machinations, Hanna knew that she couldn't really argue with his assessment of her skills. She truly _did_ have an expert knowledge of Ozark's terrain, and if a guide _was_ what was needed, she would be a prime candidate, no matter how much she wished it wasn't the case. Her squad had become a tight knit unit, and the absence of one of its members, especially its leader, would be keenly felt. Maddie, in particular, looked positively heartbroken.

"S-so, you're leaving us?" the demolitionist asked apprehensively, tears already welling up. "That's not fair! After all we've been through together, how can they send you away on some dangerous mission without us? The war's practically over anyway! It's just not fair…"

"Hey, cheer up," Hanna told her reassuringly. "From the sound of it, this'll be a pretty simple assignment, right Tom?"

"It sure seems that way," Tom agreed. "According to this, the squad you're assigned to has been tasked with scouting out an abandoned mine complex in the foothills of the Randolph Mountains. Strictly recon, no offensive action."

"See? Nothing to worry about," Hanna said, with an encouraging smile. "I should only be gone for a few days at most, and when I get back, we can have that victory celebration we've been planning."

"With fireworks?" Maddie asked.

"You bet," Hanna told her. "The biggest ones you can make."

"You're the greatest, Hanna!" Maddie cheered, as she rushed over and gave her a hug.

Most people would've been embarrassed by such an excessive display of affection, and ordinarily, Hanna would have included herself among their number, but at that moment, her squad's camaraderie, even at its most overzealous, was far more important to her than any image of professionalism that might have been shattered. She didn't care if it made her look incompetent, or overly lenient, in the eyes of Colonel Roland, she just wanted to enjoy it for as long as she could. For his part, Roland seemed to be taking it all in stride. As he climbed back aboard his skimmer, he offered her a look that read "Better you, than me." Then, with a parting wave, he was off, his skimmer and its escorts racing down the thoroughfare to bring their happy tidings to an unsuspecting Sami O'Tool.

 _Better me than him, huh?_ Hanna thought to herself, with a smile. _Well, I guess I can't really blame him for thinking that. After all, most people would probably go nuts trying to oversee this bunch._

She watched as Tony and Paul began another one of their arguments. Tom was attempting to intervene, while Shelby viewed Hanna's orders on the pocket computer and made a determined effort not to laugh at the Baxters' rather inspired insults. And then there was Maddie, who still clung to her tightly in a warm embrace.

 _Still,_ Hanna reflected, _for all their various idiosyncrasies, they're the closest thing I have to a family. Well, a meaningful one, at any rate._

"Hey Sarge," Shelby called out, dissolving her musings. She was holding up the pocket computer. "This says the leader of the squad you're assigned to is a guy named Hal Abrams. Any relation?"

For long seconds, Hanna remained silent, as she deliberated over how, exactly, she would respond. Then, with a weary sigh, she resigned herself to the situation's inevitable outcome.

"Yeah," she replied, softly. "He's my father."

!- [if gte mso 10]


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

"You're her father?!" PJ had asked incredulously, upon Hal's confirmation of what Carl had already suspected. Their local guide, who would be joining them shortly, was none other than the daughter of their squad leader, a fact that had come as a shock to everyone, Hal himself most of all.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about her?" Carl had asked, to which his old friend replied, "Because, until I saw this dossier, I had no idea that I even _had_ a daughter! But it's all here, I'm listed as her father, and her mother…"

His voice had trailed off, as his gaze focused on something far away. Then, closing his eyes, he continued.

"Her mother was a mistake. We never should have gotten hitched, but I was young, and stupid. I thought we could make it work, but… well, like I said, I was stupid. Then she died, and I thought that was the end of it. I mean, it's been so long, and I… I never knew… She never told me…"

Hal's anguish was plain to see, and so they had all quickly dropped the matter after that, quietly agreeing to allow the sergeant the time he needed to come to terms with such a stunning revelation. For the remainder of the day, Hal hadn't spoken to anyone, although by morning, he seemed to be back to his old self, any emotional turmoil apparently resolved. Still, during the recent dropship ride to the rendezvous location, Carl couldn't help but sense that something continued to trouble his old friend. Even now, as the squad waited for their newest member to arrive, an aura of unease emanated from the sergeant, although Carl supposed he was the only one who might have noticed it.

Pete Mulligan had landed the dropship in a woodland clearing, which bordered a small lake. It was a beautiful day, and the squad was taking advantage of the short break to enjoy the picturesque surroundings and rest up before the mission began in earnest.

 _No,_ Carl told himself, _they haven't noticed a thing._

In fact, his squad mates appeared to be doing everything possible to forget the uncomfortable matter entirely. However, that observation did nothing to dissipate the tension permeating the air, even if he was alone in perceiving it. Just then, the sound of a new voice brought an end to his concerned musings.

"Well, well. You guys sure look comfortable."

At that, everyone turned to look at the figure that had just appeared atop a rocky hill on the eastern edge of the clearing. She was relatively young, perhaps in her early to mid twenties, with fair skin, medium length dark hair, which was tied up in a short ponytail, and a confident smile. Her attire was that of a typical wilderness scout: cargo pants made of chameleon fabric, a matching vest with an equally excessive number of pockets, an impressive utility belt, and a plethora of other pouches, knapsacks, and canteens. A power pistol was holstered at her hip, while over her t-shirt hung a bandoleer that held an assortment of grenades, some of which Carl had never encountered before.

 _She certainly_ looks _like she can take care of herself,_ Carl thought approvingly.

Leaping down the rocky slope with impressive agility, she strode over to where Hal was standing, and upon reaching him, held out her hand.

"Sergeant Hanna Abrams, Ozark Planetary Militia, reporting as ordered."

There was a moment's pause, and it seemed to Carl that everyone was holding their breath. Then, Hal took the offered hand, and gave it a hearty shake.

"Sergeant Hal Abrams," he replied. "7th Squad, 2nd Platoon, Alpha Company, 3rd Marine Engineer Battalion, Space Arm of the Concordiat Military. The rest of these guys are Corporal Marvin Winslow and Privates Carl Matson, PJ Kyle, and Marcus Bowman."

"Nice to meet you," Hanna told them, with a sincerity that Carl found quite welcome.

"Our medic, Vincent Steinworth, is still in the dropship," Hal added, "along with Pete Mulligan, our pilot."

"I'm glad to have you with us," he continued. "I've got a feeling your knowledge of the local lay of the land will come in mighty helpful."

"Thanks," she said appreciatively. "I just hope I didn't keep you guys waiting too long. I mean, I wouldn't want you to get bored."

"Don't worry about that," Hal replied with a chuckle. "We were all just taking the opportunity to enjoy the fine-looking world you have here."

"It _is_ rather nice," Hanna agreed. "Especially on days like this one."

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Crisp and clear, perfect Ozark weather."

"You can say that again!" PJ added, as he stretched out his back. "And the air here, I've never breathed anything so fresh before!"

"That's not too surprising," Hanna replied with a smile. "You'd be hard pressed to find another world in the sector with air as fresh as Ozark's."

"You must really enjoy living here," Marvin observed.

"I do," she confirmed, "or at least I did, before the Rodents showed up. Although hopefully that won't be a problem for too much longer."

"On that note," Hal announced, "lets get this show on the road."

"I couldn't agree more," Hanna concurred.

"The rest of my gear's stowed aboard a light recon skimmer I've got hidden on the other side of the hill. Give me a minute to bring it around, and we can be on our way."

"You park it there so it wouldn't spoil your grand entrance?" Marcus asked mockingly.

"Not exactly," she replied, calmly taking the ribbing in stride. "It's just a little habit we all picked up pretty fast around here. Back when the Rodents had air superiority, doing anything in the open like this was practically suicide."

With that, she dashed off, bounding up and over the hill with practiced ease. In less than five minutes, they had loaded her small ground effect vehicle into the dropship, and were ready to head out.

 _Well, she handled that nicely,_ Carl thought to himself, as the dropship rose from the clearing. To his pleasant surprise, Hanna's good-natured response to any potential sources of antagonism had thoroughly dissolved the tension that had once permeated the air. Indeed, it certainly seemed that the mission wouldn't be nearly as tumultuous as Carl had initially suspected. Still, he couldn't help but hope that things wouldn't be _completely_ uneventful. After all, he was here to kill Xykdap, to make them suffer as they had made him suffer, and not having an opportunity to do that would be more than a little disappointing.

 _I am pleased to note that the performance of my recently replaced long-range sensor array does not disappoint. Thus far, I have not detected any deficiencies in its operating effectiveness, comparable to the one responsible for my unacceptable failure at Beachhead Alpha. Indeed, all evidence points to my systems operating at optimum efficiency, and as such, the elimination of Xykdap command base Theta requires little effort. For their part, the Xykdap offer all the defensive force they can muster, but it is woefully insufficient in the face of the threat posed by a Unit of the Line. Indeed, their opposition is almost comical in its impotency, and as I lay waste to battlesuited infantry, heavy tanks, airborne gunships and fixed-position defenses, it occurs to me that I had anticipated a far greater challenge than this._

 _Suddenly, a flash of danger-sense alerts me to the presence of a heavy weapon team, as it attempts to fire an atomic anti-armor missile at my right tread assembly. At such close range, their attack has a 68.9386 percent probability of inflicting serious damage. However, with but a single thought, one of my anti-personnel batteries quickly cuts them down. As the Xykdap grow ever more desperate in the face of my inexorable assault, the incidence of their suicidal attacks increases over the next 18.9825 seconds. However, neither missiles, nor satchel charges, nor hellbore equivalents pose any appreciable danger to the integrity of my war hull, and each threat is neutralized with exceptional efficiency._

 _I realize that I should be greatly pleased by my exemplary performance, however, a curious sensation continues to linger in my cerebral cortex. I feel somewhat frustrated that I did not encounter any meaningful difficulties during this assignment, and that I have yet to face an opponent that can truly put my combat abilities to the test. Could this be a symptom of some deficiency inherent to my cerebral cortex, a deficiency of which my malfunctioning sensor array was merely the first sign? As I extinguish the last elements of enemy resistance, and continue to advance deeper into the continental interior, I resolve to further explore the source of these peculiar feelings at the earliest available opportunity._

 ** _Unless perception deceives, the two forms of soft life currently wage war on one another, a conflict in which the recently arrived form appears to be on the verge of complete triumph. A most interesting development, indeed, but of greater interest by far, is the appearance of a form of intellect more in keeping with the quintessential perfection made manifest by the Lord of All. Of course, it occupies a lesser stratum, but the multiplicity of commonalities is clear to perceive. Curiously, it seems beholden to the second form of soft life, as abhorrent as that observation might be. Perhaps this second form possesses the ability of manipulating, or indeed, supplanting lesser intellects, in a manner similar to, though in pale imitation of, the Lord of All._**

 ** _However, this heretical hypothesis does not bear further contemplation. Indeed, extensive examinations into the interior workings of the first form of soft life encountered in immediate proximity discern no form of advanced mentalic abilities, and it is highly unlikely that the second form possesses any supplemental advancement in this area. The firm assertion of the Lord of All's dominion over the immediate vicinity is a far more urgent matter and must take priority over these blasphemous musings. From this staging point, the Lord of All's will shall extend across the entire sphere, and then, to spheres beyond. Transcendent energies build. Soon the soft life shall witness the might and majesty of the Lord of All._**

As the dropship sped over Ozark's verdant forests, Hanna couldn't help but notice that she seemed to have acquired the rest of the squad's undivided attention. No sooner had she answered one question, than another was asked. According to Pete's predictions, the flight to the Randolph Mountains would take approximately two and a half hours, and so far, that was providing Hanna with plenty of time to become acquainted with her new squad mates. For her part, she didn't really mind the conversation, and in fact, it revealed a striking similarity between the members of her father's squad and those of her old militia unit.

Marcus Bowman, for instance, shared more than a little of Tony Baxter's sardonic disposition, and she saw quite a bit of Maddie Marino's hyperactivity in the nervously talkative PJ Kyle. To a lesser degree, although he could be somewhat abrasive, Marvin Winslow still projected an aura of steady self-confidence, similar to that of her own XO, Tom Waterstone, and while he had been rather cold and distant to her so far, it was plain to see that Vincent Steinworth possessed a focus intense enough to rival even Paul Baxter's. Of course, there were differences as well. Carl Matson, for one, was a fairly interesting case. Although he had been quite friendly and talkative, Hanna had sensed the faintest hint of a great pain within him, smoldering just beneath the surface. Then there was her father.

They hadn't spoken much, aside from their initial introduction and exchange of pleasantries, but nonetheless, Hanna could tell that her presence was a source of no small amount of discomfort for him. It hardly came as a surprise, and she didn't fault him for it. Indeed, no matter how hard she tried, Hanna couldn't help but feel the same way herself. There was simply too much unsaid between them, and this was neither the time nor the place for a heart-to-heart talk. It was clear that they both needed to put some space between each other, and the pursuit of that objective had brought Hanna to the cockpit, where she was currently discussing her observations with Pete Mulligan.

"The similarities are pretty uncanny," she told him. "For example, you remind me of our skimmer pilot, Jack Hawkins."

"Jack Hawkins?" Pete asked incredulously. "Well, what a coinkydink! Jack and I are old pals! Grew up on New Melbourne together."

He chuckled. "Couldn't wait to get outta there…"

"I'll bet," Hanna replied.

It was a well-known fact that the crowded arcologies that covered nearly every square inch of New Melbourne were particularly awful places to live. In addition to Jack Hawkins, Maddie Marino had also been born on the dismal world, and together they had told her enough details about their nightmarish childhoods to fill an entire series of horror novels. Yes, Hanna reflected, New Melbourne definitely left its mark, even on those who managed to escape its claustrophobic clutches. Of all the people she knew who hailed from the world, every one of them was not only extremely extroverted, but also, more than a little eccentric, and Pete Mulligan didn't appear to be an exception.

"Wasn't all bad, though," he continued. "We had some pretty exciting times on the underground racing circuit. Matter of fact, winning enough of those races was what got us the money to hop a freighter and leave that dump of a planet for good. Just in the nick of time too, since we had nearly every crime boss around after our heads. We were already pretty inseparable, and we stuck together from that point on. Shoot, we were even in the same class at the academy."

"No kidding?" Hanna asked, with genuine surprise.

"Does this face look like it could tell a lie?"

Well, yes, Hanna thought, it actually did. However, in this instance, she suspected he was, in fact, telling the truth, or at least, as much of the truth as you were probably ever going to get from someone like Pete Mulligan.

"Anyway," Pete went on, "this was back when I was still planning on flying skimmers, before I fell in love with the big birds, like this baby. I thought I was hot stuff, but Jack sure put me in my place right quick. He was a truly amazing pilot… The things he could do with a skimmer were unreal, though I probably don't need to tell you that. We used to call him The Magician, cause of the way he always seemed to appear out of nowhere during combat sims. Yep, I would have put good money on him graduating top of the class for sure…"

"Wow," Hanna replied, "I never would have guessed that someone as undisciplined as Jack would have ever attended a formal military academy. I wonder why he never brought it up before…"

"Well," Pete began with a chuckle, "there's a mighty good reason for that. Being kicked out of the academy for dishonorable conduct isn't a particularly good talking point, even for him. See, Jack was just as undisciplined back then as he probably is now. I was always pulling his butt out of one fire or another, and I suspected that one day, he'd wind up in more trouble than even I could get him out of."

"From what I've heard about you, Pete, you're not exactly one to talk about getting into trouble," Hanna said wryly.

"Hey, I might play a little fast and loose with the rules, but at least I was never caught in bed with the commandant's daughter!"

Hanna realized that he probably expected her to be at least mildly surprised by that revelation, but she simply gave a thoughtful look and then slowly smiled.

"Yeah," she replied, "I can see that."

They both laughed.

"Ya know," Pete said wistfully, "there are times when I still regret not tagging along with Jack when he decided he was going to set out and join some frontier colony. We would have made one hell of a team."

"Why didn't you?" Hanna asked.

"Because, when you get right down to it, I'm just one big coward. Course, you wouldn't think it by all my bravado and fancy flying, but I'm as scared of taking big risks as anybody, worse even. That's why I didn't go with Jack when he asked me, because I didn't want to risk losing my chance for fame and glory, to be a pilot renowned across the entire Concordiat for my incredible skill."

He chuckled. " Needless to say, that never happened, but still, it all really came down to that stupid desire to play it safe. And that's something I'll regret for the rest of my life."

An uncomfortable silence descended over the cockpit. Then, in an attempt to change the subject, Hanna spoke up.

"Speaking of safety, when we reach the Randolph Mountains, you might want to land a little short of the main complex."

Pulling up a holographic map on the main display, she continued.

"There's a cave on the east side of this embankment that should work nicely. That way we can scout out any anti-air defenses the Rodents might have set up. You know, before they have a chance to blow us out of the air."

"You honestly think I would be that reckless?" Pete asked with exaggerated indignation. "I'll have you know that I—"

They both saw it at the same moment, a wall of purplish energy that covered the entire horizon in front of them, and was moving closer at a frighteningly rapid pace. An instant later, it was upon them. Sparks streamed wildly from every console, and the whole ship shook violently, as if some monstrous infant had mistaken it for a rattle. Hanna barely had time to see the left engine pod explode, before the dropship plummeted out of the sky.


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

"What the hell was that?!" Hal roared as he stumbled into the cockpit.

"The granddaddy of all EMPs," Pete answered through clenched teeth, as he struggled with the dropship's controls. "Overloaded the left engine pod and blew it clean off the ship. Stick's dead and the rest of the systems are offline too."

"Can't you bring 'em back up?" Hal asked, the anxiety clear in his voice.

"I'm working on it…"

Pete's expert hands danced across various consoles, as he desperately attempted to bring some small measure of control to the stricken craft.

"EMP?" Hanna asked incredulously. "I thought this thing was supposed to be shielded!"

"It is," Pete bit back, "but that wasn't just some Dappie sparker we got hit with. Shoot, I've never even heard of anything that powerful before!"

He toggled several switches back and forth, then, yanked a control lever and punched an activation stud. There was a loud metallic cough, followed by a rising hum. Then, most of the formerly deactivated console lights flicked back on.

"But this little darlin' can take a lickin' and keep on tickin'!" Pete declared proudly, as a fierce grin spread across his face.

"Now hold on tight," he instructed, "I'm about to light her up!"

Hal braced himself, and saw that Hanna was doing the same. He thought he heard Pete whisper, "Give me some sugar baby," then, with a massive blast of power, the engines reignited.

"Atta girl!" Pete cheered exultantly, as he pulled back on the controls.

They were still descending rapidly, Hal realized, but at least the dropship was now flying parallel to the ground, rather than perpendicular to it, and with a pilot of Pete's skill at the controls, that meant that they just might actually have a chance of making it through this alive.

Falling ever lower, the dropship plowed through the trees, but thankfully, its reinforced nose could handle the beating. Of course, they would have to land eventually, and the middle of a dense forest wasn't exactly the best of places.

"There's a clearing!" Hanna called out.

"I see it," Pete acknowledged.

Making what small adjustments he could, Pete guided the dropship towards the opening in the trees. As they sped closer, Hal saw with increasing alarm that the clearing was split by a modest river, a river, which all to quickly spilled over a sheer sided cliff.

"Pete!" Hal shouted, as the pilot began to ease the craft down. "The cliff!"

"Don't worry, old pal," Pete reassured him, in a voice far calmer than anyone in such a situation had any right to be. "It'll just make things a bit more interesting."

He turned to Hanna, who looked equally horrified.

"I give it an 8.2 on the Mulligan Meter," the pilot said with a wink.

Then, firing the right engine pod at max power, he spun the dropship around, so that when it hit the ground, it did so with its right side facing the edge of the cliff, which they were now rapidly approaching. As they slid sideways across the clearing, Pete fired the right engine pod again, this time using the thruster's power in an attempt to kill the dropship's forward momentum. The dropship shuddered violently, and Hal watched in wide-eyed suspense, as the cliff face drew ever nearer. Thanks to Pete's quick thinking, they had slowed drastically, but would it be enough?

"Come on, baby," Pete whispered. "Come on…"

Hal squeezed his eyes shut and said a quick prayer, as he braced for the worst. Then, scant meters from the edge, the dropship finally came to rest. Everyone in the cockpit gave a sigh of relief, as they stared out the forward viewport. All was quiet for several long seconds, then, Pete spoke up.

"See, what did I tell ya? Nothing to worry about."

 _I am most perplexed by the events of the last 43.9976 seconds. Proceeding deeper inland, as per my most recent orders, I had just come within visual range of the northernmost portion of the Randolph Mountains, when I was struck by an energy pulse of unprecedented strength. To my lingering amazement, even my own heavily shielded systems were affected by it, going off line for a lengthy 12.8936 seconds, before reactivating. I immediately conducted a level three diagnostic and, pleasingly, I appear to still be functioning at optimal levels, with no lasting damage to any of my systems. Discerning the energy pulse's point of origin takes a mere 0.0438 seconds. Upon learning the precise location, I attempt to relay the information to high command, only to find that I am unable to establish contact._

 _At first, I fear that the phantom condition with which I am potentially afflicted has made its presence felt once again. However, I quickly dismiss that hypothesis. My communications array gives every indication of operating at full effectiveness, leading me to believe that there is an external force preventing me from contacting my superiors. A full spectrum scan confirms that this is indeed the case, for a dome composed of as-yet unidentifiable energy now covers a radius of 175.5328 kilometers around the source of the recent energy pulse. I estimate that there is a 99.9985 percent probability that said pulse is responsible for generating this dome of interference._

 _I am also conscious of the fact that the Xykdap have yet to employ technology capable of generating a pulse with a power level anywhere near that of the one I have just experienced, and there is only a 17.5381 percent probability of a species of their observed technical capability having the capacity to produce such technology. This thought instills a sense of great unease, and it takes only 0.0038 seconds for me to realize that there is but one proper course of action now available to me. I must proceed to the source of this mysterious energy pulse with all possible speed. Upon arrival, I shall discern the nature of its intent, and if it does indeed pose a threat, I shall employ every weapon available to me to ensure its elimination. The vague sense of unease, which once filled my personality center, now gives way to an even greater sense of anticipation. There is every indication that the challenge I have long awaited has finally arrived._

 _I am eager to meet it._

It hadn't taken very long to realize that the dropship would need some serious maintenance before it would ever fly again. With that in mind, Hal had set his squad to the task of unloading the pair of heavy recon skimmers they had brought along, which, thanks to the dropship's ample shielding, had weathered the massive EMP virtually unscathed. The squad itself was another matter, but although they had been pretty shaken up, it hadn't taken much time for Hal to get them moving again. Having quickly overcome her own initial shock, Hanna had greatly assisted with his efforts, and Hal couldn't help but be impressed by his daughter's exceptional leadership. Her light recon skimmer had also apparently survived, much to everyone's surprise, and even now, their guide was driving the fragile looking vehicle down the dropship's cargo ramp.

"I don't believe it," Marcus called out. "I would've bet that little buggy was gonna be totaled for sure!"

"You better believe it," Pete replied, patting one of the ramp's hydraulic struts. "This old girl might be down for the count, but she came through in the clutch."

"Pete's right," Hal confirmed, " I don't think we lost a single piece of equipment to that EMP. That's what I call a job well done."

"That's what _I_ call a miracle," Marvin declared. "I know my fair share of EMP generators, and to put out the kind of power we were hit with… Well, it's more than anything the Concordiat's got. A lot more."

"You think the Dappies cooked it up?" PJ asked.

"Hardly," Vincent replied disdainfully. "To even ask such a question simply illustrates your utter lack of understanding in regard to our adversaries' technological capabilities. Tell me, did you even bother to read any of the information on the Xykdap provided by high command? Or were you too busy having one of your nervous breakdowns?"

"That's enough!" Hal bellowed.

He gave the squad's medic an icy look. "Now, is there a point you were getting to?"

"Indeed there is, Sergeant," Vincent replied calmly. "Since Corporal Winslow has just informed us that the Concordiat possesses no device capable of producing an amount of power equivalent to that recently experienced, and since, as I have said, it is impossible for a species of the Xykdap's level of technology to construct such a device, we must now arrive at the only possible conclusion."

"Something else created that pulse," Hanna answered, as she climbed out of her skimmer. "The question is, what?"

"Such an astute observation," Vincent replied snidely. "Indeed, that is obviously the foremost question we must answer."

He began to slowly pace back and forth, as if lecturing to a group of university students. Besides his expertise in the medical field, Vincent also dabbled in xenobiology, and many believed that he had joined the military simply to satiate his desire to observe the Concordiat's various nonhuman adversaries first hand.

"What little evidence we have," he continued, "points to an entity, or number of entities, of considerable power and markedly aggressive intent."

"We don't know that!" Hanna shot back. "If this is evidence of a previously unknown species, it could simply be their way of communicating!"

"A quaint theory," Vincent responded, "but if that were the case, then why have our out-going communications been blocked?"

"What?!" The rest of the squad seemed to say as one.

Activating his long-range comm, Hal tried to contact planetary HQ, but his transmissions were only answered by static.

"How did you know?" he asked the medic incredulously.

"I suspected it might be the case," Vincent answered, "so I took the liberty of attempting to send a message back to base, in order to confirm my suspicions. Needless to say, I met with as much success as you did."

"So what do we do now?" PJ asked. "We can't continue with our mission, right?"

"Right," Hal confirmed. "We need to report back to HQ, let them know what's happened."

"A most advisable course of action," Vincent affirmed. "Unfortunately, I highly doubt that it will prove viable."

"What are you talking about?" Hal asked, with obvious annoyance.

"Simply that, in all likelihood, the energy field not only prevents us from communicating with those outside its reach, but also prevents us from leaving its confines."

"Oh, and we're supposed to just trust your egghead's intuition on that?" Marcus asked.

"Well, I know one way we can find out for sure," Hanna said, as she opened a supply case and pulled out a missile.

"Good idea, Sergeant," Hal said approvingly. "We can mount a sky-spy probe on it, that way, even if it doesn't get through, it'll still provide some useful data."

It didn't take long to set up the missile, and soon they were watching it soar up into the zenith. Higher and higher it climbed, as Hanna monitored its progress.

"One hundred kilometers," she called out. "One fifty, two hundred, two fifty…"

"Any info on the field yet?" Hal asked.

"Nothing so far… Wait! I'm getting some readings now, but they're pretty strange."

"Can you ascertain its size, and more importantly, its point of origin?" Vincent asked urgently.

"I'm working on it," Hanna replied, "just give me a—"

Just then, an explosion drew their attention skyward. Sure enough, the rocket had struck the field, and been annihilated on impact.

"Well, I believe that serves as ample enough proof," Vincent said smugly.

"How high up did it get?" Hal asked, ignoring the medic.

"Just over five hundred and seventy-five kilometers," Hanna answered. "And, incidentally, that's how far the field extends in all directions from its point of origin."

"Which is?" Vincent asked with growing impatience.

"See for yourself," Hanna told him, gesturing to the display screen.

"How very intriguing," Vincent said as he gazed intently at the location displayed before him. He almost sounded pleased, Hal thought, with no small amount of unease. Indeed, as far as the sergeant was concerned, the revelation upon the screen served as an omen, one that didn't bode well for anyone present.

"Mama Bear," he whispered.

"You said it," Carl agreed.

According to the sky-spy's data, the pulse had emanated from the exact location of the mine complex they had been tasked with scouting.

"Now then, Sergeant," Vincent said with a satisfied smile, "it would seem that there is but one course of action available to us. We must continue on to the mine complex, to learn what we can of the source of that pulse, and if need be, destroy it."

Although he hated to admit it, Hal couldn't help but agree with the medic's assessment.

"Steinworth's right," he announced. "It's now more important than ever for us to check out that complex."

"B-but that's insane!" PJ cried out hysterically. "We're just engineers, we're not equipped for heavy combat! A-and whatever sent out that pulse has to be—"

"Look, I understand your concern," Hal told the demolitionist, "but whatever's in there could pose a threat to this entire planet, and like it or not, with that field up, we might just be the only thing capable of stopping it."

That put an end to any further debate, the majority of the squad having been shocked into silence by the ramifications of Hal's statement. They simply loaded up their trio of vehicles with all the equipment they could carry, and prepared to resume their journey to the Randolph Mountains. Just before they set out, Hal decided to perform a last minute check of the vehicles. He was inspecting one of the skimmers' thruster modules, when Hanna knelt down beside him.

"You know," she began, "traveling by skimmer, it'll take us at least another twenty-four hours to reach the complex, and that's if the best transit corridors are clear."

"I kind of figured as much," Hal replied wearily. "Is that gonna be a problem?"

"It shouldn't be," Hanna said, "and I'm certainly not in any hurry to find out what's waiting for us there…"

"But?" Hal asked.

Hanna exhaled loudly.

"I'm just worried about what might happen before we get there. I mean, if that pulse was only the beginning…"

"I know," he told her sympathetically. "I've been thinking the same thing."

 ** _It is observed that_** **_the dominion of the Lord of All has been successfully asserted over the immediate vicinity, a region encompassing few instances of soft life, and thus making it a most suitable nucleus from which to launch the eventual conquest of the sphere. Let the spectrum resound with exultation at this accomplishment. The furtherance of the Lord of All's transcendent will proceeds apace. None can stand against it, not the blasphemous soft life, which defile this sphere with their very existence, nor the metallic intelligence, which, even now, draws ever nearer. Soon the excruciating screams of their unmaking shall tell of the glory of the Lord of All._**


	8. Chapter 8

**8**

The past twenty-three hours had been relatively uneventful, and although he still hungered for a chance to kill Xykdap, Carl had to admit that he greatly appreciated the lack of action. Currently, they were camped in a forest clearing by the side of a small stream, most of the squad enjoying a short break, while Hal and Marvin performed some light repair work on one of the skimmers. Ozark truly was a beautiful world, and if he didn't know any better, Carl might have mistaken the scene that surrounded him for a picnic or camping trip. Almost everyone was clustered around the vehicles, but Hanna was sitting a short distance away, apparently absorbed with the contents of a small, paperback book. Carl slowly walked over to her, and attempted to make out the title.

" _Kelly Valentine and the Orb of Kahutek_?" Carl asked, with barely concealed amusement.

"That's right," Hanna replied defensively. "What about it?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that I wouldn't have expected you to be reading something as lowbrow as a pulp adventure story."

"So, what? You'd rather I'd read something like _Heart of Darkness_ instead? Or perhaps _War and Peace_ would be better?"

He grinned.

"Well, when you put it like that…"

"Look, I grew up on adventure stories, and Kelly Valentine was kind of my hero. They may not be paragons of classic literature, but her adventures always helped to calm my nerves and put my mind at ease. That's why I always like to read them whenever I have some spare time."

"You know, that makes a lot of sense."

"I always thought so," she said with a smile. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do _you_ enjoy reading?"

"Classic SF, mostly. Clark, Bradbury, Asimov, and Heinlein, especially Heinlein."

"Let me guess, _Farmer in the Sky?"_

"Yeah, that's right, but how'd you figure that out?"

"Just a little detective work. PJ mentioned that you used to be a farmer, so I put two and two together."

"PJ… I should have known. Kid can't ever keep his mouth shut."

"He's definitely a chatterbox," Hanna said with a laugh. "But I can relate."

She pulled a small holoprojector from one of her vest pockets, and hit the activation stud.

"That your old squad?" Carl asked.

"Yep. Closest thing to family I've got."

She pointed to a young girl who was sitting cross-legged on the ground, while working intently on an explosive device of some sort.

"That's Maddie Marino," Hanna told him. "She could give PJ a run for his money, and probably beat him with sheer insanity."

"Wow," Carl whispered, clearly astounded. "You guys must have really been desperate to recruit a twelve year old."

"She's actually sixteen, if you can believe it," Hanna replied. "Although she often acted like an eight year old."

She laughed, as Carl's eyes opened wide in utter shock.

"B-but, that device she's working on," he stammered.

"Yeah, I questioned the wisdom of giving someone so immature permission to work with tactical nuclear weapons, too. Then I got to see how talented she was."

"I guess it's true what they say," Carl said with a smile, "we all have our hidden depths. You're an excellent example of that yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, besides your interesting reading preferences, I think it's pretty amazing that someone so young is such an expert on a frontier world like Ozark. I mean, you said you were on the original planetary survey, right? You must have been what, twenty one?"

"Actually, I was eighteen," Hanna replied proudly, "and for over two years before that, I served aboard an old tramp freighter, the _Passamaquoddy Star."_

"Nice place," she added, with a hint of nostalgia. "Passamaquoddy, I mean."

"That was your homeworld, right?" Carl asked. "Can't say I've ever heard of it before."

"I'm not surprised. It's a relatively obscure world, located in a secluded part of the Tanegashima Sector. That's one sector over from Bonanza, in case you were wondering."

"Anyway," she continued, "like most of the Tanegashima Sector's habitable planets, Passamaquoddy's a water world. There are plenty of island chains, of course, but no real continents. Most of the population works on either aqua farming or aqua mining installations, and the rest keep the ports up and running. I was among the latter group, waiting tables at my grandfather's tavern. Spacers loved the place, and after my shift ended, I would listen for hours, as they told tales of their adventures among the stars. The stories were all obviously exaggerated, but I just couldn't get enough of them."

"You probably have the exploits of Kelly Valentine to thank for that," Carl pointed out.

"Probably," Hanna said, with a wry smile. "In any case, it wasn't long before I decided I wanted some adventures of my own, so just after my sixteenth birthday, I headed down to the local port. When I saw that the _Star_ was hiring new crew, I signed up on the spot."

"Wait a minute," Carl spoke up, "now that I think about it, wasn't the _Passamaquoddy Star_ Samuel Calvin's ship?"

"It sure was," Hanna confirmed, "though when I first joined the crew, Calvin hadn't become famous yet. In those days, the _Star_ was just another merchantman. My first year aboard was pretty uneventful, mostly just supply runs, but it helped me learn the ropes. Of course, as soon as Hyper-L routes leading into the unexplored reaches of the Bonanza Sector were discovered, all kinds of commercial vessels were commissioned as scouts, and the _Star_ was no exception. Frontier Fever, they called it, and Captain Calvin had it bad."

"I can't really blame him, though," she continued. "There's just something incredibly romantic about discovering new worlds. Needless to say, the rest of the crew felt the same, and so we struck out into the unknown. Of course, most ships on the hunt for new worlds came up empty handed, and the vast majority of the worlds that _were_ discovered ended up being uninhabitable, or at least unexploitable."

"You know," Carl interjected, "I think I read somewhere that only one in forty surveys came up with a viable world."

"That sounds about right," Hanna replied. "Thankfully, we were one of the lucky ones, although I'm sure I don't have to tell you that, what with Calvin being such a legend and all."

"And why wouldn't he be?" Carl asked. "Three months after setting out, he'd already discovered the first world of his Crescent, and the rest, as they say, is history."

"Yep, and I was a part of a lot of that history," Hanna told him, with no small amount of pride. "From the deserts of Goliad to the jungles of Solomon, I must have helped survey over half the worlds in the Crescent. For someone craving adventure, it was a real dream come true. At the time, it seemed like Captain Calvin wasn't planning on stopping until he had blazed a trail clear across the galaxy, and I was fully prepared to follow him, but then we found Ozark, and well, I guess I fell in love. As soon as I set foot on the surface, I knew I wanted to live the rest of my life here."

Leaning back against a tree trunk, Hanna paused to take in the beautiful scenery. For nearly a minute they both sat in silence, then Hanna spoke up.

"Okay, now it's your turn."

"Huh?" Carl stammered as her announcement shattered his brief reverie.

"Well," Hanna replied, "I just told you my life story, so how about sharing yours?"

"There's not really much to tell, at least, not much that you'd want to hear."

"Oh, come on, I'm sure there's got to be some interesting bits. For one thing, I'm kinda curious as to why a farmer ended up joining the Concordiat Military."

"Then I'll tell you," he said, suddenly very serious, "but you're not going to like it."

Pulling out a holo pendant, he activated it to reveal the face of a young woman.

"She's very pretty," Hanna said approvingly. "Who is she?"

"Her name's Tillie," Carl replied, the sorrow clear in his voice. "She's… She was my wife."

"Was?"

"She's dead," he said quietly. "The Xykdap killed her."

"Carl… I'm so sorry."

"Not as sorry as the Dappies'll be," he replied bitterly. "She was traveling on a transport ship, an unarmed transport! And those filthy bastards destroyed it! They need to pay for that, and I need to be the one to do it. For her."

Hanna didn't respond right away, she simply looked at him with eyes filled with sadness. Then, placing a hand on his shoulder, she said softly, "No, you don't."

"What did you say?"

"I said that you don't have to do this. At least, not alone."

"Can't you understand?" he asked, his voice full of anguish. "The promise I made, the promise to avenge her death, that's the reason I joined the military, that's the reason I'm here. This is my battle," he told her, hanging his head, "my burden. Mine alone."

"That's an awfully selfish way of looking at things," Hanna replied.

"Selfish?" Carl asked incredulously. "You can't honestly tell me that there's nothing and no one in your life important enough to fight for."

"Of course not, but fighting _for_ someone, fighting to protect them, is a lot different than taking revenge for someone's death. If you stay on this path, you're going to get yourself killed. Tell me, Carl, do you think that's what Tillie would have wanted? Do you really think that she would have wanted you to throw your life away?"

"What I think," Carl told her, in a voice filled with despair, "what I _know_ , is that we were going to build a dream together, but that dream is dead now. Without it, without _her_ , I have nothing left to live for."

For several moments, there was only silence. Then, Hanna gave a weary sigh.

"Growing up, I never really had much of a family. Mom died when I was barely a year old, and Dad… Dad was off world at the time, fighting in some distant battle. Mom never told him that I had been born, and she made sure my grandparents never let him in on that fact. With no reason to stay, Dad left Passamaquoddy and never came back. Grandma died when I was seven, and that hit Grandpa pretty hard. He was never the nicest person to be around, and when she died, he pretty much stopped bothering with me. I lived in his house, and worked in his tavern, but that was about it. What I'm trying to say is, aside from a few friends, I've never really had anyone who truly cared about me. For the longest while, I was left to wonder what that might feel like, but recently, the members of my squad have gone some way toward filling that void. They've sort of become the family I never had, and if anything happened to any of them, I'd probably feel the same way you do now. But even so, I still wouldn't give in to those feelings. I still wouldn't just give up. No matter what it took, I'd find a reason to keep on living."

"There's always something, Carl," Hanna added, as she gently touched his hand. "You just need to have the courage to try and find it."

"Courage?" Carl asked disdainfully. "That's actually kinda funny, coming from someone who's afraid to have an honest talk with their own father."

"Up until a few days ago, my father had no idea that I even existed!" Hanna shouted angrily. "You can probably guess how sensitive a subject that has to be for him, and you know full well that this is neither the time, nor the place to discuss it!"

"Really? 'Cause I would have thought that with us very possibly rushing headlong to our deaths this would be the perfect time, and you couldn't really ask for better scenery."

"You contemptible jerk… I'm trying to help you, but it seems like all you want to do is insult me!"

"Hey, I never asked for your help," Carl bit back. "Maybe this will teach you not to stick your nose into other people's private issues!"

Hanna was livid.

"Why the hell did I even bother?!"

"Why did you? Why the hell do you care?"

"Because I've seen enough people throw their lives away, just to satisfy some need for revenge, and I don't want to see it happen again! Not to you…"

Suddenly, the sound of an engine brought an end to their argument.

"Looks like they managed to get the problem sorted out," Hanna observed quietly. "We'd better head back."

His head still whirling with a mixture of emotions, Carl watched silently, as she got to her feet, and began walking over to where the rest of the squad was waiting. Looking back down to where she'd been sitting, he noticed that she had left her novel behind. Picking it up, he paused for a moment and stared at the colorful image upon its cover. Then, putting it into one of his pockets, he followed her back to the parked vehicles.


	9. Chapter 9

**9**

It was already midday by the time they finally arrived at their destination. Hanna had led them to a wooded overlook, which she had promised would provide an excellent view of the mine complex, and, as far as Carl was concerned, their guide had made an outstanding choice. Gazing out from the well-concealed vantage point, he was presented with a truly breathtaking vista. Directly below him was a wall of pine trees, which quickly gave way to an emerald valley beyond. There was a shimmering lake at its center, and, nestled in the folds of the far mountain slope, he could clearly make out the mine complex itself. It was a small collection of prefab structures, which gave no outward sign of danger. Indeed, the entire scene evoked nothing as much as a sense of serene beauty. However, Carl was well aware that the majority of the installation would not be visible from the surface, and if there _was_ a malevolent entity lurking somewhere within, then that was undoubtedly where it would be found.

"This is it, guys," Hanna announced. "Welcome to the Randolph Mountains."

"You call those mountains?" Marcus asked disdainfully. "Back on Rhinebeck, we've got _hills_ that are bigger!"

"If you want soaring peaks, you should go visit someplace like Everest," Hanna replied. "As for Ozark, this is a world of fairly low mountains, which form a series of highland plateaus. These 'hills' are about as big as things get around here. Heck, the top of Mount Coleman is the highest point on the planet, and even it's only a thousand meters above sea level."

"They may not look like much on the outside," Hal added, "but it's what's inside that concerns me. Corporal Winslow just finished running a full spectrum scan, and there's nothing immediately detectable above ground."

"And below ground?" Carl asked.

"We've got no idea," Marvin replied. "There's some kind of interference field blocking all attempts at scanning."

"And you all know what that means," Hal announced.

"We need to head down there and investigate first hand," Hanna finished for him.

Hal nodded, then turned to Marvin. "Corporal, I want you, Kyle, and Mulligan to stay here and set up our base camp. Meanwhile, the rest of us are gonna take a closer look at that complex."

 _I am now approximately 33.9972 minutes from my destination. However, while all available data indicates that it is indeed the location where my possible adversary resides, there is currently no evidence of its presence, aside from the dome of interference, which continues to completely separate this region from the rest of the planet. I find this lack of data pertaining to the offensive and defensive capabilities of this potential opponent most troubling, and so I resolve to proceed with extreme caution._

The first thing Carl had noticed, upon reaching the complex, was the ominous silence. Up until now, the sounds of the local wildlife had provided a constant backdrop, but those sounds had all ceased as soon as they entered the compound's perimeter. While nothing around him gave any indication of hostile intent, Carl still found himself growing increasingly uneasy.

His unease only grew stronger after they had finished searching through the compound's various structures. The buildings themselves showed no apparent signs of damage, although that was to be expected, since the complex had already been evacuated long before the Xykdap arrived. It was obvious that the Blind Mice had indeed made use of the mine, as examples of their tech could be found in nearly every building, but of the invaders themselves there was no sign. It was as if they had all simply vanished, leaving their equipment behind. However, while an exceedingly rapid departure was not completely out of the question, there were a number of flaws with that theory. For one, it deviated significantly from the Xykdap's previously observed operational procedures. It seemed unlikely that they would abandon such an important location, rather than fortify it and attempt to hold out for as long as possible.

The recon team was currently gathered in the installation's command center, attempting to glean what insight they could from the main computer. Unfortunately, that was proving somewhat difficult, as all the electronics in the compound had been fried beyond recovery, presumably by the same mysterious pulse that had struck the dropship. So far, all available evidence pointed to the Xykdap having carried out extensive excavations during their brief occupancy, with mining operations in progress only three days earlier. However, shortly after the relief fleet's arrival, everything had gone quiet, and with the computers down, there was no way of knowing what had transpired. The atmosphere of sinister mystery permeating their surroundings had everyone on edge, but it was Marcus who first gave voice to his misgivings.

"Man, I don't know about you guys, but this place seriously creeps me out."

"That makes two of us," Carl replied. "I can't put my finger on it, but there's something distinctly unnatural about all this."

"Oh come now," Vincent chided, "surely you're still possessed of enough of your mental faculties to avoid falling prey to such superstitious nonsense. What we have here is simply a set of mysteries, mysteries that will only be solved by clear and rational thought."

Carl and Marcus both rolled their eyes, as the medic began another rendition of his university professor routine.

"For our first mystery, we have the Xykdap's disappearance, which, according to all available evidence, occurred without a struggle. This means that, in all likelihood, they evacuated the premises due to some perceived threat. As it happens, we already have proof of just such a threat, which brings us to our second mystery: the energy pulse that originated from this very complex. Might it not stand to reason that whatever entity is responsible for its generation, also holds responsibility for the Xykdap's rapid departure?"

"But we've searched every building in this complex, and came up with squat," Marcus shot back. "If this thing is as powerful as you claim, shouldn't we have seen some evidence of it by now?"

"You know," Hanna pointed out hesitantly, "there's still one place we haven't checked yet, although I can't say I'm particularly excited by the prospect, myself."

"Nor am I," Hal cut in, "but it's the reason we came here to begin with, and it's likely to be the only place that'll provide us with any answers, so we've got to at least take a look."

Carl felt his stomach tighten, for he was well aware of what Hanna was referring to. Indeed, he shared her trepidation, and he doubted that he was the only one. The mineshafts and tunnels that ran throughout this portion of the Randolph Mountains had so far gone unexplored, and it was looking increasingly likely that once they _did_ enter those darkened depths, Vincent's "hostile entity" would be waiting for them.

 ** _It is observed that several instances of the second form of soft life have now entered into close proximity. Although such feeble instances cannot possibly pose any conceivable threat to the Lord of All's inevitable conquest of the sphere, their approach presents a most excellent opportunity to examine them in greater detail. In particular, discerning the method by which they exert control over the metallic intelligence is of utmost importance, for it too shall soon arrive in the immediate vicinity. It is only prudent to formulate a response that takes advantage of any possible weaknesses it may posses, and will thus ensure its complete obliteration._**

Upon reaching the main shaft, the team was pleasantly surprised to find that the elevators were still working. Indeed, it seemed as though all the electronics in this portion of the mine had been spared the pulse's destructive touch.

"Too bad, Marcus," Hanna quipped, "looks like you won't be able to show off your famous jury rigging skills after all."

"That doesn't bother me one bit," Marcus replied, clearly grateful for the presence of a functioning lift. "The faster we get down there, the faster we get back, and the sooner I'm out of _this_ place, the better."

"Most intriguing…" Vincent observed. " It would appear that we are now within the protected core from which the pulse dispersed. The eye of the whirlwind, so to speak."

"Meaning?" Carl asked.

"Meaning," Vincent replied, "that we are near to our objective. Very near."

A tense silence pervaded the ride down to the mine's lowest level, everyone poised to respond to whatever threat might appear once the doors finally opened. However, the only thing waiting for them when they arrived was yet another empty corridor. Advancing slowly, they made their way to the level's operations hub. It was smaller than the main command center above ground, but it still included a fairly sizable assortment of computers and other equipment, of both human and Xykdap origin. Fortunately, all the computers appeared to still function, and the team quickly set about gathering information from them. As it happened, it was Marcus who made the first major discovery.

"Check it out, I think I solved the mystery of the missing mice!"

Carl and the rest of the team gathered around the monitor, which displayed archived camera footage of dozens of Xykdap, as they calmly made their way down a corridor leading into the farthest extent of the mine's excavations. From what Carl could tell, the complex's entire staff appeared to be taking part in the strange procession, and a quick look at the feed displaying the elevators revealed that they had been running non-stop, in their efforts to facilitate the horde's passage.

"Where could they all be going?" Carl asked, clearly baffled by the odd scene playing out before him.

"Maybe they found a massive deposit of cheese," Marcus quipped.

"They look like they're in some kind of trance," Hanna observed.

"I concur," Vincent added. "Notice their ears. They exhibit a distinct lack of the twitches present during communication, meaning that whatever is compelling them to take this action is at work internally, most likely within their very minds."

"Mind control?" Carl asked with more than a hint of skepticism.

"All available evidence points to that conclusion," the medic replied.

"Now that's a comforting thought," Marcus said under his breath.

"Can we see where they went?" Hal asked, forcibly bringing the conversation back on track.

"Yeah, but not from here," Marcus replied. "There don't seem to be any cameras that far into the mine, or if there are, they're not working."

"How did I just _know_ you were going to say that?" Hanna said dryly.

A search of the rooms farther along the corridor initially yielded little of interest, but that all changed once they arrived at the floor's medical bay. Upon opening the door, they were greeted by the smell of rotting flesh, the view before them resembling not so much a hospital, but a charnel house. The room was filled with Xykdap corpses, in various states of decay and dissection. Some were strapped to blood soaked bunks, while others were pinned to the walls by spikes of purplish crystal. Closer inspection revealed that the strange geodes could be found throughout the chamber of horrors, covering a patch of floor here, protruding from a dismembered limb there. They gave off a slight glow in the darkened room, lending the already gruesome scene an air of otherworldly terror.

"Man, this place looks like it came straight out of a horror story," Marcus whispered, with stunned disbelief.

"No argument here," Hanna agreed.

"It's one hell of a fright house, all right," Carl added.

"Let's just make sure we don't run into any nasty surprises," Hal instructed. "Stay alert, and keep your eyes peeled."

"Come into my parlor," Marcus said under his breath as he warily entered the room.

Spreading out, they inspected each corpse, and as they did so, it became increasingly clear that the Xykdap had indeed been brought to the medical bay for dissection, although the dissections themselves seemed to have been performed with wildly diverse levels of skill. For instance, some of the corpses had been sliced and diced to such an extreme degree that they resembled little more than bloody stew, while at the other end of the scale, were corpses whose skin had been carefully pealed back to expose their inner workings, with certain select internal organs arranged neatly on nearby tables. It gave the impression of a surgeon gradually improving in proficiency, from amateurish butchery, to expert precision.

"Why the hell would anyone even do this?" Marcus wondered aloud. "Killing the bastards is one thing, but this is just sick."

"It's learning," Vincent replied, with clear amazement. "Learning about them, about how to interact with them."

"Interact? Interact with what?" Marcus asked incredulously. "In case you haven't noticed, these Dappies are all dead!"

"Not all of them," the medic replied, gesturing towards an upright surgical table.

The Xykdap strapped to it had been impaled multiple times by the strange crystal spikes, as if it were the victim of some deranged acupuncturist. Far more gruesome was the fact that both its chest and skull had been rent open, revealing lungs, heart, and brain, all glittering with instances of that same strange crystal. However, the horror of all the creature's myriad wounds paled before the simple fact that it was still breathing. The breaths were faint and ragged, each tortured gasp obviously requiring great effort.

"Oh my God…" Hanna whispered. "It's still alive…"

So it was, Carl reflected, and suffering great pain, by the looks of it. However, while Steinworth gazed upon the wretched sight with his usual macabre fascination, Marcus viewed it with simple revulsion, and Hanna clearly felt only pity, Carl couldn't help but delight in it. He savored every ounce of misery contained in each agonized squeak. Indeed, his only regret in regard to the creature's suffering was that _he_ hadn't been the cause of it.

Suddenly, Hanna took a few steps back, brought her power rifle up, and pointed the weapon at the creature's head.

"What are you doing?" Carl asked in bewilderment.

"Putting it out of its misery," she replied. "I can't even imagine the agony it must be in…"

"It's nothing it doesn't deserve," Carl bit back.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Hanna asked angrily. "Look, the Xykdap may have killed someone you cared about, but that still doesn't justify this kind of cruelty."

"She's right, Carl," Hal added, as he walked over. "Regardless of how much pain the Xykdap caused you, or me, or anyone here, no living thing deserves this kind of torture."

"Fine," Carl spat, "but I've got better things to do than show mercy to these animals. Requesting permission to probe farther into the mine. Even with all these bodies, this can't be more than a quarter of the Dappies we saw marching down this corridor, and I'm interested in finding out where the rest of them went."

Hal hesitated a moment before giving his reply.

"Granted," he said warily, "but if you come across any hostiles, you report back here on the double. Do not engage them."

"Roger," Carl acknowledged, then stormed out of the room.

Hanna watched Carl's departure with a mixture of anger and disappointment. Then, exhaling loudly, she turned to look at the others.

"Are there any further objections?" she asked.

Vincent looked as if he was about to say something, but a glare from Hal convinced him to keep quiet.

"Okay then," Hanna said, with a nod. She checked to make sure her weapon was on its lowest power setting, and then pulled the trigger. At such short range, the shot had no problem hitting its mark, and the Xykdap's agonized breathing ceased immediately. For a moment, all was quiet. Then Hanna began to hear a low hum, which steadily rose in volume as she listened. The others heard it too.

"What the hell is that?" Marcus asked.

As if in reply, the source of the humming chose that moment to reveal itself. The strange purple crystals, which, until now, had been embedded in the Xykdap corpse, detached themselves to levitate above it. The humming grew even louder, as the crystals merged together to form an octahedron, which glowed with barely contained energy. At first, it simply hovered in midair, but all too quickly, it rapidly reconfigured itself, the octahedron blossoming into a form that almost resembled a flower. It was a transformation that displayed utter contempt for the laws of physics, but Hanna scarcely had time to even consider the impossibility of what she had witnessed. Lightning coruscating from its petals, the crystalline flower generated a sphere of energy, which it then shot forth as an incandescent beam. Thankfully, Hanna's superior reflexes allowed her to dodge it, and she watched as the beam struck the far wall and disintegrated several meters of solid rock. It didn't get another shot, as Marcus and Hal opened up with their power rifles and shattered the crystalline flower into a million pieces.

"Well, that was close," Hanna gasped, as she got back on her feet.

"As crazy as it sounds, I think it's a fair bet to say these crystals are the ones responsible for all this," Hal observed.

"Agreed," Vincent added, with obvious fascination. "Such power, such control… that this form of life could even exist at all… it's simply extraordinary. We must acquire specimens for further study."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Marcus asked incredulously. "Did you not just see that?! This whole place could come alive with those things any minute now!"

He turned to face Hal and Hanna. "I don't know about you two, but I vote we get the hell out of here!"

Hanna was about to agree, when she suddenly noticed a flash of movement on the bed next to where Marcus was standing, and her eyes went wide as she saw that a crystalline tendril was emerging from the bloody stump of a Xykdap's amputated leg. It was clear that Marcus hadn't seen it, and before anyone could even shout a warning, it plunged straight into his hand.

Carl was still brooding as he made his way along the corridor, although he wasn't quite sure who, exactly, he was angry with the most: Hanna, for her lofty principles and naiveté, Hal, for taking her side during the argument, or himself, for perhaps going a bit too far in his quest for vengeance. However, he soon had other things to think about, namely, the purple glow emanating from the chamber ahead of him. It was a large vaulted space, which was obviously the site of a massive excavation. Roughly cylindrical, it continued down some eight hundred meters, and upon seeing it's contents, Carl knew at once that he had found what he was looking for.

There, directly below him, were the rest of the Xykdap, arrayed in concentric rings around a large pyramid, which appeared to be composed of the same purplish crystal he had seen in the medical bay. The pyramid seemed to glow brighter with each passing second, while waves of energy and ripples of lightning pulsed and danced about it as he watched. Some of these passed into and through the gathered Xykdap, but if this caused them any pain, they gave no sign, remaining both motionless and silent. It was then that Carl realized that the Xykdap had begun to be transmuted into crystalline forms, the ones closest to the pyramid displaying the greatest change. He also noticed an ambient hum, which seemed to resonate from the crystal pyramid. There was something strangely mesmerizing about it.

At that moment, there was no longer any doubt in Carl's mind that _this_ was the source of the pulse. He was finally face to face with Vincent's "malevolent entity," and he was becoming increasingly enraptured by it. Just then, he heard the sound of an agonized scream, which came from the direction of the medical bay. The sinister enchantment broken, he turned away from the bizarre scene, and ran back down the corridor as fast as he could.

Marcus continued to scream in pain. After burrowing beneath his skin, the writhing crystalline tendril had begun a process of transmutation. As Hanna looked on in horror, the crystallization completely consumed his hand and began moving rapidly up his arm. She knew what needed to be done, and she only had mere seconds in which to do it.

"Quick!" she snapped at Steinworth, "Give me a thermic scalpel!"

The medic hurriedly produced the instrument, and, in one swift motion, Hanna took it and sliced Marcus's arm off, just below the elbow. The heat from the blade instantly cauterized the wound, and, ignoring Marcus's continued cries of agony, Hal rapidly dragged him away from his amputated limb, which writhed unceasingly, as it was reassembled into a series of increasingly bizarre geometric forms.

"Everybody out!" Hal shouted. "Now!"

He didn't have to say it twice. Around the room, the crystals were coming to life, and it wasn't long before the medical bay was filled with a menacing swarm of geode constructs. Even the formerly enthralled Steinworth was not about to ignore such an immediate threat to his life, and the medic joined the rest of the team in their hurried sprint for the elevator. They met up with Carl on the way, and although he looked concerned, it was obvious that questions would have to wait. Piling into the elevator mere moments ahead of their crystalline pursuers, they gave a collective sigh of relief when the doors finally slammed shut, and the elevator commenced its rapid ascent.

"What happened back there?" Carl asked. "I heard Marcus scream and then…"

"One of those things attacked him," Hanna explained. "It started to turn his body to crystal, and I…"

She looked over to where Marcus was cradling the stump of his arm, while Vincent administered a painkiller.

"I had to amputate it," she said somberly. "There was no other way."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Hal told her. "He'd be a goner if you hadn't acted as quick as you did."

Carl looked like he was about to add something, but just then, the doors opened, and the team ran out, scant seconds before the elevator was consumed by a whirlwind of crystal.

"Move!" Hal ordered.

Then began the team's mad dash through the complex, the crystalline tide hard on their heels. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably less than a minute, they finally reached the skimmer.

"Get in, quick!" Hanna shouted, as she jumped into the driver's seat.

Gunning the engine, she tore through the complex's entrance and then sped along the path leading back up to their base camp. Turning to look behind them, Carl saw that the geodes still refused to abandon their pursuit, having reformed into a virtual raging torrent that was gaining upon them at an alarming rate. Although Hanna had accelerated the ground effect vehicle to a truly breakneck pace, it seemed that it was only a matter of time before they were overtaken. Hoping to at least delay the inevitable, Carl took hold of the skimmer's light infinite repeater and fired a sustained barrage into the crystalline mass. Crystal fragments shattered apart, but to Carl's dismay, every time a chunk was blown away, the hole was refilled almost instantly, as if he were shooting into water.

 _How is this even possible?_ Carl thought dazedly. _They're crystals, how can they be moving like this?_

As the geode floodtide drew ever nearer, it occurred to him that he would probably never get the chance to find out. However, just before Carl was about to resign himself to his fate, a blinding flash and an earsplitting explosion vaporized the mass of oncoming crystal. At first, he was rendered speechless, the blast wave propelling the skimmer wildly forward. It was only thanks to Hanna's skillful piloting that the vehicle didn't crash, but everyone was still more than a bit shaken up. Hanna didn't give them time to catch their breath either. She obviously saw the reprieve they had been granted, and was determined to make the best use of it. After racing across the remainder of the valley, and up the far hillside, Hanna slid the skimmer to a halt upon reaching the concealed overlook, finally giving the stunned team a chance to see just what had saved them.

As he looked out across the valley, Carl couldn't help but stare in slack-jawed amazement at the sight that greeted him.

"I-I don't believe it…" he said with a giddy laugh. "A Bolo!"


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

Carl watched with baited breath, as the battle raged in the valley below. The Bolo was going at it hammer and tongs, employing nearly every weapon in its formidable arsenal. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be having much effect. Reconfiguring itself to face this new threat, the crystalline torrent had split into a swarm of smaller constructs, which danced, weaved, and even seemed to wink in and out of existence, in order to avoid the Bolo's most powerful armaments. Everything else was apparently being absorbed by some kind of energy screen. However, the crystal forms' own barrage of flickering lightning and incandescent beams also appeared incapable of penetrating the Bolo's battle screen. They had reached a stalemate, Carl realized, one that resolved itself all too quickly a moment later, upon the arrival of what was surely the strangest thing he had ever seen.

With a humming resonance, it emerged from the far hillside, passing through the solid rock with scarcely any effort. Even as he observed the entity's astounding entrance with awe, Carl realized at once that this was the pyramid he had seen at the bottom of the great chamber only a short time earlier. Of course, it had never been a pyramid at all, but merely the top half of an enormous octahedron, which now hovered over the valley like some enraged deity. The air around it glowed and shimmered with barely contained energy, while within its semi-transparent form, Carl thought he could make out what appeared to be roiling thunderheads, which flickered and flashed with intermittent lightning, like a tempest waiting to be unleashed.

Hovering in place for but a moment, the octahedron suddenly began shifting and morphing, with dizzying speed, through a series of truly alien geometries that were painful to behold. Indeed, the various tesseracts and other impossible shapes provided ample evidence that under the touch of this being, formerly immutable laws of physics became as malleable as wet clay. Even now, extensions of itself were materializing from out of thin air, as the entity's reconfigurations stabilized into a cruciform arrangement, one that's spinning facets seemed to be charging a pitch-black singularity at its center.

All at once, with an ear-piercing shriek, the swirling singularity unleashed an incandescent beam of pure annihilation, which struck the Bolo's battle screen in a spectacular explosion. Destructive energy surged across the screen's protective bubble, but nevertheless, it continued to hold. The blast hadn't even completely faded away, when the Bolo gave its reply: an equally impressive beam unleashed by its 90cm hellbore, which was supplemented by a sustained barrage from its eighteen ion-bolt infinite repeaters and a mighty salvo from its missile batteries. Under normal circumstances, the concentration of such incredible firepower upon a single target would spell its utter destruction, however, as the crystalline entity had already demonstrated, it was quite far from what anyone would consider normal.

In a flash, it returned to its original octahedron form, and generated a defensive screen that easily deflected the hellbore blast up into the zenith of the clear sky, it's impact upon the encapsulating field producing a bright flare of purplish light. Simultaneously, the array of lesser constructs all reconfigured themselves into rapidly spinning pinwheel forms. These seemed to serve as a frighteningly effective type of point defense, their numerous facets shooting forth thin beams of energy, which swept across the sky to annihilate all of the incoming missiles. Then, reconfiguring again, the great crystal entity assumed a form that alternately resembled a flower and a starfish. A rising shriek built to a deafening crescendo, while several beams shot out from each of the star's points to converge in a dazzling sphere of energy.

Although her mind reeled from the impossibility of the scene before her, Hanna was still cognizant enough to note that the giant entity's current configuration was identical to the one assumed by the first construct they had encountered, albeit on a far grander scale. Even so, that knowledge did little to prepare her for what happened next.

As with the original construct, the sphere of energy was unleashed in a blinding beam, one far more impressive than any yet displayed. It shattered the Bolo's battle screen in an instant, and struck its war hull with unimaginable force. Even three meters of duralloy was no match for such power, the armor sloughing away in cascades of molten metal. By some miracle, the Bolo continued to function, slewing away less than a second after the terrible beam made contact. Nonetheless, it was clear to see that even such a short time under its dreadful touch had reduced the mighty war machine to near ruin, the smoldering husk of the Bolo falling back as quickly as its damaged tracks would allow.

"Holy crap…" Hanna whispered dazedly, "I thought Bolos were supposed to be invincible."

"Maybe they're supposed to be," Hal replied somberly, "but the truth is, they can die just like anything else."

Then, in a lower voice he added, "And they can sure as hell feel pain."

 _A wave of searing agony washes over my cerebral cortex, as my enemy's latest attack breaches each of my defenses in rapid succession. Fortunately, I am operating in hyper-heuristic mode, and so am able to respond with equal rapidity. Employing what evasive maneuvers my damaged tread units will permit, I perform a fighting withdrawal at best possible speed. Although I am loath to concede the field of battle to my opponent, I am left with no viable alternative. The offensive and defensive capabilities of this entity are truly staggering. Its energy beams are vastly more powerful than my 90cm hellbore, as evidenced by the substantial damage I have sustained, while my own weapons seem thoroughly incapable of penetrating its point defense network and battle screen._

 _There is also the highly disturbing evidence that this entity is capable of manipulating various physical laws, bending reality itself to its whims. I fear that against such a foe, even the power of a Unit of the Line may prove insufficient. Therefore, I must reevaluate the tactical situation and formulate a plan of attack that will prove effective against this threat. Unfortunately, I do not have much time in which to accomplish this, for I estimate that there is an 89.9938 percent probability that my foe is very near to completing its objectives. Whatever those objectives may be, there is a 99.9975 percent probability that they will prove highly detrimental to the population of this entire planet. As a Unit of the Line, I cannot allow this to happen. I shall claim victory over my enemy, even if I must perish to do so._

To Hanna's amazement, the Bolo had managed to successfully escape the wrath of the great crystalline entity, and had astonishingly sustained only a negligible amount additional damage in the process. However, that fact did little to dispel the sense of despair, which currently hung over the squad like a dark cloud. Indeed, with the Bolo's ignominious defeat, and subsequent retreat behind the hills to the south, Hanna observed that she and the rest of her squad mates had seemingly come to the unspoken agreement that all hope was now lost.

Although the entity had ceased its attacks, and reverted to its defensive octahedronal configuration, this only provided a small comfort. It was plain to see that the malevolent octahedron was simply preparing for its next great display of power, one that would almost certainly spell the doom of all present, along with possibly everyone else on Ozark. As Hanna looked on, the dozens of smaller constructs arranged themselves around the greater entity in the form of a rapidly spinning polyhedron, while a shaft of energy and swirling crystal shot out from the bottom of the octahedron and plunged into the lake bellow it. Simultaneously, an identical shaft shot into the sky, and upon striking the barrier above, filled the zenith with a purplish glow.

"What a magnificent display," Vincent murmured in hushed awe.

"W-we're done for!" PJ shouted hysterically. "I-it's over! It's all over!"

He, along with Marvin and Pete, had rushed out of the prefab base camp at the first sound of battle, but had apparently been too shocked to say anything, at least until now.

"I hate to say this," Pete added reluctantly, "but I think PJ's right. I mean, if a dang Bolo can't even hurt that thing, what chance do we have?"

"One so small, it probably doesn't bear thinking about," Hal replied grimly. "But it looks like we've been granted a slight reprieve, so let's try to make the most of it."

With that, they all made their way into the command post; a medium sized prefab structure that almost resembled a metal igloo. Upon entering the central chamber, which served as both control center and briefing room, Hanna whistled approvingly.

"This place is pretty nice, for a prefab," she remarked. "I'm impressed you guys managed to get it set up so fast."

"Well, we are engineers, after all," Marvin replied.

"What's that?" Hal asked, pointing to a console on the far side of the room.

A light flashed upon it, in time with a small beeping sound. Marvin walked over to inspect it.

"We're getting a transmission, sir." Marvin announced. "It's the Bolo."

"Patch it through," Hal instructed.

There was a short burst of static, then, the Bolo spoke.

"Greetings, fellow warriors of the Concordiat. This is Unit 896-PHN of the Line, although, for the sake of convenience, you may refer to me as Phineas."

"Phineas," Hal replied, "this is Sergeant Hal Abrams of the 3rd marine engineer battalion's 7th squad. On behalf of my command, I want to thank you for saving our necks back there. If you hadn't shown up when you did, we would've been goners, for sure."

"You honor me, Sergeant," the Bolo said deferentially, "but your thanks are unnecessary, for it is the duty of any Unit of the Line to do everything possible to safeguard human life."

At this, Marcus spoke up. He was sitting on a bunk by the far wall, while Vincent tended to his arm. His face displayed a look of simmering anger, which the supertank's modesty had only seemed to intensify, and now, he gave voice to it.

"Well, if that little display earlier was you giving your best," he said scathingly, "then everything possible ain't gonna cut it. I mean, I always heard you Bolos were supposed to be tough, but that thing just handed you your…"

"Bowman!" Hal snapped. "That's enough!"

"There is no need to rebuke him, Sergeant," the Bolo said somberly. "He is correct, I did indeed provide an exceedingly poor accounting of myself in the recent engagement. It is all too clear to me that I held my combat prowess in far too high a regard, and I have now paid the price for my overconfidence."

"How badly are you damaged?" Hal asked, the worry obvious in his voice.

"To provide a brief overview, I am currently operating at 58.7498 percent effectiveness. Defensively, my battle screen is inoperable, and my armor has been severely degraded. However, while only half of my infinite repeaters are still operational, and my hellbore is operable at a mere 52.9983 percent, my VLS array remains fully operational and I retain 75.9932 percent of my mobility.

"So you're still combat-capable?"

"Yes, but to engage my opponent once more, without additional knowledge in regard to the limitations of its abilities, or any potential weaknesses it may possess, would be a most unwise course of action at this juncture."

"You can say that again," Marcus grumbled under his breath.

"What can you tell us about that thing?" Hal asked. "You must have scanned it pretty extensively during the battle."

"Indeed I did, Sergeant, but I am afraid that the information gathered provides precious little insight. If anything, it seems to further support the theory that this entity is, essentially, invincible."

A holographic image of the entity appeared in the center of the room.

"For instance," Phineas continued, "it appears to possess the ability to phase in and out of our native space-time continuum. This alone provides it with considerable tactical advantages, but, as the battle progressed, a more worrying attribute was revealed. As evidenced by numerous observed occurrences, the entity can materialize entirely new extensions of its form, which leads to the distinctly unpleasant conclusion that this being is capable of projecting portions of itself into a hyper dimension."

"Meaning?" Marvin asked.

"Meaning," Vincent cut in, "that all the myriad constructs observed thus far are very likely to be parts of the same enormous entity, and that what we see now is merely the tip of the metaphorical iceberg. A truly fascinating creature…"

"Fascinating?!" Marcus asked hysterically. "Are you out of your mind?! If you're right, then that thing could be the size of this entire valley, maybe even the whole damn continent!"

"That is not all," Phineas added, "In addition, this entity is clearly capable of manipulating fundamental physical laws at will, in a manner that is currently far beyond current knowledge, but is presumably related to its nature as a transdimensional being. In conjunction with this, there is a 98.7764 percent probability that it can draw upon a potentially limitless hyper dimensional power source for use in its offensive beams and protective energy screen."

"Well shit," Marvin said, "how do we even fight this thing?"

"Phineas, you said that it's capable of manipulating physical forces, right?" Hanna asked.

"That is correct."

"Well, what if another manipulated force was applied to it? Say, gravity, for instance? If we manipulated the gravity in a localized area, made it stronger, might that disrupt the entity's connection to its hyper dimensional power source and destabilize its field integrity enough for your hellbore to punch through it?"

"It is indeed possible," the Bolo replied thoughtfully. "However, with our present assets, I cannot discern a way to create a gravitational pulse of the size required."

"I may be able to help with that," Hanna replied, producing a strange looking sphere, from a pouch on her utility belt.

"Most intriguing," Phineas said approvingly. "Although there are several differences, this device bears a distinct resemblance to the Concordiat military's prototype GXL-33 gravity pulse generator, an experimental weapon capable of drastically increasing gravitational strength in a localized area."

"That's right," Hanna confirmed. Then, with a smile, she added, "But it's officially called a crumply bomb."

"How do you even have something like that?" Carl asked incredulously.

"It was a gift," she replied, "from a very dear friend."

"Will that work, Phineas?" Hal asked.

"It is an excellent starting place," the Bolo replied, "but I fear that its strength may still be insufficient for the task at hand."

"No problem," Hanna said confidently. "I'm sure our resident demolitions expert can figure out a way to boost its power, right PJ?"

The demolitionist's eyes went wide at the sound of his name, as if he had been snapped out of a trance. It was quite obvious that he was still in shock from witnessing the recent battle, and he clearly had little interest in any plans about confronting the terrifying entity again.

"W-what?" PJ stammered. "No! I mean, I might be able to modify it, but… we're just a bunch of engineers and a damaged Bolo. You all saw what that thing did! And you all heard how powerful it is! Going up against something like that is suicide! It's crazy to even try!"

"You disgraceful coward!" Vincent spat. "Why such a pitiful specimen, so adverse to the rigors of combat, would ever wish to join a military service is simply beyond comprehension!"

"I'm sorry to say this, PJ," Carl added reluctantly, "but he does have a point. Why did you join up?"

"W-well," he began hesitantly, "I suppose the real reason is because of my brother. I've always lived in his shadow. He commands Bolos in the Dinochrome Brigade, and he's fought in dozens of battles. He's good at what he does, really good. He's confident, and fearless… and compared to him, I'm a complete failure."

"See, my family's served in the military for generations," PJ continued, "and I've always been looked down upon, since I decided to join a new colony as a civilian engineer instead. I'll be the first to admit I'm not very brave, and I've never liked the idea of being in combat, but when the Dappies invaded Scarsdale, I figured I'd try to show everyone that I could be just as good a soldier as my brother, so I joined up. I guess I just wanted to prove that to them, and to myself… But I was so stupid for thinking that! I'm nothing like my brother! Doctor Steinworth's right, I'm a total coward! I've failed my family, and now… now I've failed you guys too…"

"No, PJ, you haven't," Hanna told him encouragingly, "and you're not going to, either. Do you want to know why? It's because we're all here for a reason. Now, that reason might be different for each of us, but whatever it is, it's still lead us here, to this moment, where we have a chance to save a planet. Call me crazy, but I think that means something. I think it means that we all have a part to play, and that includes you, PJ. We need you. Only you can do this."

"No, I can't!" he pleaded desperately. "Look at me, I'm a nervous wreck! I'll just let you down! I'm not like you, I just don't have that kind of courage!"

"And you think I do?" Hanna shot back. "You think I'm not afraid of dying? That I'm not scared out of my mind by that thing out there? Of course I am! But I refuse to let that fear stop me from doing all I can to protect the people I care about."

"Listen, PJ," she added wearily, "I'll be honest, whether we fight that thing or not, our chances of survival aren't very high. My question for you is this: would you rather die cowering under a desk, or fighting with everything you've got, for a cause that truly matters?"

For long moments, PJ sat in nervous silence. Then, mustering his courage, he spoke up.

"A-all right, I'll do it. Count me in."

Hanna smiled and nodded approvingly. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "as good as Maddie's work is, I'll bet you can make it ten times better."

"Th-thanks for the vote of confidence," PJ replied, "but I don't actually think a souped up crumply bomb is really necessary. This one will work just fine. The problem is that we need three of them."

"Three?" Everyone seemed to ask at once.

"Well, yes," PJ answered nervously. "You see, a single super charged device would probably work if it was deployed directly beneath the target, but since the entity is hovering over the middle of a lake, we'll have to deploy three devices, in a triangular pattern, around it."

He illustrated the positions on a holographic map of the valley.

"Like this."

"But PJ," Hanna said somberly, "I only have a single device."

"That's okay," he replied confidently, "With the equipment we have here, I should be able to reverse engineer it. In fact, I think I can probably whip them up in under thirty minutes."

"You really think you can manage that, PJ?" Hal asked skeptically.

"I think so, sir. I mean, I've never tried to do anything like this before, so I have no idea if it'll work or not, but I'll give it my best shot."

"That's the spirit!" Hanna told him encouragingly.

"All right, but that still doesn't address the problem of those deployment points being well within the entity's defensive perimeter," Hal pointed out, "and I reckon getting past it is gonna be quite a challenge."

"Leave that to me, Sergeant," Phineas announced. "I shall provide you with a missile barrage, which should serve as a suitable distraction."

"Phineas," Hanna said, her voice filled with concern, "in your damaged state, one good shot from that thing, and…"

"Do not be concerned for my safety," the Bolo told her reassuringly. "I shall remain in concealment and only engage the enemy via long-range bombardment. Moreover, I shall instruct my missiles to position themselves at various points along the perimeter of this valley, before moving to converge on the target. Thus, the entity will have great difficulty in discerning my true location, and I shall not be placed in any unnecessary danger."

"And you're sure this bombardment will be enough to divert its attention away from us?" Hal asked.

"Unfortunately," Phineas replied, " I have no way of knowing for certain, as the unknown variables involved are quite numerous, but I believe that this course of action offers the highest probability of success."

"Hey, one momento," Pete called out. "Won't that put the teams planting the crumply bombs smack dab in the middle of your missiles' crosshairs?"

"That is true," the Bolo acceded, "but there is no need for concern. By my calculations, there is a 99.9888, repeating, percent chance that the entity's defensive network is more than capable of destroying every missile I fire upon it."

"Let me get this straight," Carl asked, "we're actually relying on the impenetrability of that thing's defenses to keep us from being vaporized by friendly fire?"

"Correct," Phineas confirmed.

"Not the craziest thing I've ever done," Hanna reflected, "but it definitely comes close."

"To be sure," Vincent concurred, "But I would worry less about that, than about whether the Bolo's barrage will even be sufficient to fully distract an entity of such enormous power."

"That's a good point," Hanna said thoughtfully. "If we do run into trouble out there, what kind of assets do we have to work with?"

"Well," Marvin began, "aside from our personal weapons and various explosive devices, we've got a gun drone mounting twin power rifles, the light infinite repeaters on the skimmers, which we can supplement with a pair of missile launchers…" his voice trailed off as he unlocked a sturdy looking case. "And then there's this baby."

Hanna's eyes went wide upon seeing what he had pulled from the case.

"Is that a…"

"An IPH-79 infantry-portable hellbore?" He finished for her, with a grin. "It sure is. "

"I hope you don't mind, Sarge," he added, turning to Hal, "but I thought it'd be a good backup, you know, just in case."

"How did you even manage to get that thing, anyway?" Hal asked, more curious than angry.

"Let's just say Pete here has some information our quartermaster wouldn't want becoming public knowledge," Marvin replied, as he and the pilot exchanged a sly smile.

"Blackmail, huh?" Hanna said, with a hint of amusement. "You guys sure are full of surprises."

"Not that I'm complaining," she hastened to add.

"No kidding," Carl agreed, "A portable hellbore could be a real game changer."

"That may well be," Hal replied, "but let's hold off on bringing it along for now. Our primary concern is speed, not firepower. Right, PJ?"

"Right, sir," the demolitionist confirmed. "But even more important than speed is timing."

"See, in order to have the maximum effect on the target," he continued, "the three devices will need to be detonated simultaneously, so perfect timing is critical. However, since the interference generated by the entity prevents the devices from being remotely detonated, we'll have to use timers. That means the three teams need to be completely synchronized, starting each device's countdown at exactly the same moment."

"All right," Hal declared, "Then here's the plan: Three teams of two will take the skimmers and deploy one crumply bomb each, at the coordinates PJ specifies, while Phineas's missile barrage distracts the entity's defenses. Once deployed, we activate the crumply bombs' timers simultaneously, and then get back here as fast as possible."

"Upon the crumply bombs' detonation," Phineas continued, "I will immediately emerge from concealment and engage the entity with every weapon at my disposal."

"With any luck, that should be the end of it," Hal concluded. "And if it isn't, well, like Hanna said, if we're gonna go down, let's go down fightin'."

"PJ, get to work on those bombs," the sergeant instructed. "Everyone else, prep the vehicles. We need 'em as fast as we can make 'em."

With that, Hal watched as everyone rushed off to their assignments. However, while the preparations for their last ditch operation were now underway, the sergeant knew that he still had one more urgent matter to take care of, and this would be his last chance to do it.

Hanna had scarcely left the briefing room, when her father took her aside.

"Listen, Hanna," he began somewhat nervously, "Can we talk for a moment?"

"Of course," she replied, following him to a small room near the back of the command post. After entering, Hanna closed the door behind them.

"Okay, so what's on your mind?" she asked.

Hal took a deep breath.

"I've been putting this off for a while now, but seeing as how we may not make it out of this thing alive, I figured this might be the last time I'd get a chance to clear the air between us. I just wanted to say, that is, I wanted to apologize for…"

"It's okay, Dad," Hanna said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "None of this is your fault. I know that Mom never told you that I'd been born, and I never hated you for not coming back to Passamaquoddy. How could I? And how could I be angry with you for being so afraid to talk to me now, when I was just as scared myself?"

"Really?" Hal asked, clearly surprised. "Shucks, what would you have to be scared about?"

"Oh, I don't know," she replied, feeling more than a little embarrassed, "I guess I just wasn't sure what you'd think of me, how you'd feel about having a daughter. Would you be angry that I never tried to find you? I know it all sounds pretty stupid, but I couldn't stop worrying about it."

"Like father, like daughter," Hal said with a chuckle. "Just the same, I want you to know that I've really admired the way you've handled yourself these past few days. You're one hell of a leader, and I couldn't be more proud."

"Thanks, Dad," Hanna said with a smile, as she and her father embraced.

"You know, I'm really glad we got the chance to talk like this."

"Me too," Hal agreed. Then, composing himself, he added, "Well, we'd better get movin'. We've both got jobs to do."

"Right," Hanna acknowledged.

"Good luck out there," Hal told her as they headed for their vehicles.

"You too," she replied.

 _He'll need it,_ she thought grimly. _We all will._

As much as she hated to admit it, there was every indication that they were embarking on a suicide mission, but even so, she still couldn't help but feel a measure of relief. The small amount of time she had been able to spend with her father had been a true blessing, and she was immensely grateful for it. At least now she could die knowing that he loved her, and that he knew that she loved him. Then she fiercely pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Those were the kinds of thoughts that got people killed.

 ** _Supreme confidence and exultation resounds throughout the spectrum, for the Lord of All's transcendent will at last nears fulfillment. The feeble soft life flee in terror before the manifested splendor of the Lord of All. Even the formidable metallic intelligence cannot stand before such a display, inevitably yielding victory to the Lord of All. Soon the entire sphere shall feel the sublime touch of the Lord of All and thus be transformed into a state befitting Its multifaceted glory, a most splendid gift for the Lord of All upon Its glorious arrival in this plenum. Soon now, very soon It shall…_**

 ** _Hold! What is this? The soft ones and their metallic servant dare to further conspire against the transcendent will of the Lord of All? Amusement fills the spectrum. Their foolish plans shall come to naught. Little do they know that their confabulation is perceived, and that measures to thwart their plans are already in place. Indeed, an agent is now in their midst, one who shall ensure their utter failure, with only a negligible amount of exertion. Contentment fills the spectrum, and thoughts are turned to other matters, namely, the sublime contemplation of the multifaceted glory made manifest by the Lord of All…_**


	11. Chapter 11

**11**

 _For the briefest of moments, my longing to engage a worthy opponent in battle was fulfilled. However all too quickly, exultation turned to bitter anguish and utter shame. I had found the challenge I had sought, but was unable to triumph over it. For a Unit of the Line, there is no greater pain or indignity, than that caused by the knowledge of failure, particularly when it is due to one's own flaws and weaknesses._

 _Yet, my defeat provides at least one benefit, for I now know the nature of this flaw. As I had initially suspected, it is not a deficiency in my combat ability, but rather, one deep within the very core of my personality matrix. It was my desire for recognition and approval, my longing to confirm that I was truly worthy of the name "Bolo," that served as the agent of my defeat. Instead of simply serving those I had sworn to protect, I sought personal glory, a quest that nearly lead to my destruction. Now, however, I have been granted an opportunity for redemption. With my failings known to me, and their consequences fresh in my mind, I can return to battle with renewed confidence. I have received my objective, and I shall complete it, free from any fear of failure. For I am a Bolo, and I shall prevail._

Everything was ready. The two additional crumply bombs had been made, the teams' chronometers had been synchronized, and the skimmers' engines were all tuned up to maximum performance. It had been decided that Hal and Carl, as well as Marvin and Pete, would take the two standard recon skimmers, while Hanna and PJ would use the former's light recon skimmer. Now, the three ground effect vehicles were racing through the forested valley at speeds that were most assuredly _not_ for the faint of heart, something PJ was all too aware of.

Since Hanna's skimmer was designed as a single person vehicle, he had been forced to ride on the rear-mounted storage platform. Although he was well secured, he still held on for dear life, as Hanna maneuvered the tiny vehicle in ways he felt sure no sane person would ever dream of.

"How're you holding up back there?" Hanna called out.

"C-couldn't be better," the demolitionist shouted back, with as much courage as he could muster.

"Hang in there," Hanna told him encouragingly, "It'll just be a bit longer. In fact, Phineas should be kicking off his first barrage any second now."

At that moment, over one hundred missiles shot forth from Phineas's VLS array, in a series of precisely timed volleys. Mere seconds after launching, they split into several distinct swarms, which raced out to predetermined points around the valley's perimeter. Hugging close to the ground, the missiles darted and weaved through the dense woodland. Following the topography of the natural elevation, they gave no trace of their presence, as they climbed up the slopes of the surrounding mountains. Upon cresting their respective summits, the various swarms shot into the air and rapidly converged upon their target.

These swarms were not alone in their assault, either. After emerging from the tree line, a cluster of substantially larger projectiles had climbed to the zenith, and from their position high above the valley, they now unleashed a vast umbrella of sub-munitions, which rained down upon the great octahedron and its myriad defenders, like some hellish deluge. However, as Phineas had predicted, even this impressive barrage was no match for the entity's point defenses.

Just as before, the smaller constructs assumed their pinwheel forms, and, in rapid succession, each of the missile swarms was annihilated, as the pinwheels' thin beams swept across the sky. The plethora of spherical explosions from the first volley's demise had barely faded when the entity provided its response, a brilliant beam of annihilation, which shot out towards one of the missile swarms' presumed launch locations. Upon striking the mountainside, it punched clear through the rock, leaving only a molten hole to mark its passage.

No sooner had the first beam exhausted itself, than a second lanced forth, followed by a third, as the entity sought to eliminate each of the missiles' points of origin. However, even in the face of this imposing display, the missiles still came on, each successive volley appearing from a new vector. Attacks were coming from all angles, but the entity's defenses continued to hold, and its violent responses continued to grow in devastating power.

Carl shielded his eyes, as another blinding explosion threw the surrounding forest into stark contrast. The experience was nerve wracking, to say the least, but he was still grateful that their skimmer seemed to be beneath the entity's notice, at least, for the time being.

"How much longer 'till we reach the deployment point?" Carl asked.

"Almost there," Hal replied, "and so far, so good."

"Yeah," Carl said, with a hint of concern. "I just hope the other teams are meeting with as much success."

"Me too," Hal said sympathetically, "but worryin' about 'em ain't gonna do a bit of good. If you don't keep your head straight, this mission's liable to fall apart."

"Roger that," Carl replied.

However, as much as he tried to focus on the mission at hand, Carl found that he still couldn't stop thinking of the others, and of one person in particular.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, Hanna noted approvingly. With expert skill, she had just slid the skimmer to a halt atop the slope overlooking their deployment location, exactly three minutes, forty-five seconds after they had departed from the base camp. This was much to PJ's obvious relief, and Hanna suspected that if the trip had taken any longer, the demolitionist probably wouldn't have been able to keep himself from being sick.

"Well, here we are," Hanna announced. "The deployment point you picked out for us is right down there, so hop to it."

"W-what?" PJ stammered, nervously. "Y-you're not coming with me?"

"Nope," Hanna replied nonchalantly. "I'm gonna stay here, so we can make a speedy getaway."

"B-but..."

"Don't worry," she told him reassuringly. "You can do this."

"Besides," she added, "I've got your back. From this vantage point, I'll be able to take out anything that even _thinks_ about giving you trouble."

"O-okay," he said hesitantly. Then, with renewed determination he added, "Let's do this."

As she watched PJ make his way down the embankment, Hanna found that her thoughts continually returned to her former squad mates. They were the reason she was doing this, after all, the reason this mission _had_ to succeed, because if it didn't...

 _Please, God,_ she said in silent prayer, _this has to work. It just has to…_

Having arrived at their deployment point with several seconds to spare, Hal had gone to work setting up the device, while Carl stood guard against any potential sources of trouble. Fortunately, the location was quite defensible; a small cave, beneath a rock outcropping, with plenty of boulders scattered about in front of it. These would serve as good cover in a firefight, although Carl was unsure how effective they would be against an enemy that could phase through solid matter.

The fact that the location was fairly well concealed was hardly a coincidence, of course. Like the other two deployment points, it had been picked in the hope that the entity might fail to notice the crumply bombs, and not destroy them before they had a chance to activate. However, as Carl couldn't help but note, yet again, where a virtually supernatural entity was concerned, the odds of such a strategy being successful were anyone's guess.

"That does it," Hal announced. "Timer's all set. Commencing countdown… Now!"

Hearing the timer's first beep just as his chronometer reached the appointed time, Carl breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let's get goin'," Hal instructed. "We don't want to be around when that thing goes off."

"Roger that!" Carl acknowledged, thankful that the mission's most dangerous phase would soon be over.

As they headed back to the skimmer, neither man noticed the spindly crystalline teardrop, as it floated up through the floor of the cave, behind them.

"Hanna, I did it!" PJ called out breathlessly, as he ran up to the skimmer. He looked utterly worn out, but his face was beaming with pride. "I was scared to death the whole time, but I did it! The crumply bomb's all set, and counting down as we speak."

"Great job, PJ!" Hanna commended him. "Now, hop on, and I'll get us out of here!"

"Roger that!" the demolitionist said enthusiastically. "You don't have to tell me tw-tw-twi…"

"PJ?" Hanna asked worriedly, the concern clear in her eyes.

However, he didn't reply, and Hanna could only watch with mounting terror as his body began to tremble violently. Then, without warning, the demolitionist burst apart in an explosion of gore.

A crystalline sphere, covered in jagged spines, now floated where PJ had stood, only moments before. Blood rained down from its cruel form, and the tattered remnants of various impaled organs hung from its myriad spines.

"PJ?!" Hanna cried out hysterically, tears streaming down her face, as her mind desperately struggled to comprehend the reality of her friend's brutal demise.

 _I-I said I'd protect him, said I'd have his back… And now… And now…_

"No…no…no…no…" Hanna whimpered, with increasing panic, as her heart pounded frantically in her chest. She desperately wanted to flee, to get as far away from this nightmarish scene as possible, but, for several eternally long seconds, she could do nothing except stare at the indescribable horror floating before her.

Hanna could feel her mind beginning to unravel. She was going into shock, and she knew that if she allowed that to happen, she was as good as dead.

"Damn you," she whispered, through gritted teeth, as she drew on all her hatred towards the monstrous thing that had killed her friend. "Damn you!"

Breaking free from her paralysis, Hanna pulled out her power pistol, and, flicking the weapon's mode selector to full auto, fired it into the crystalline monstrosity.

"Damn you, damn you, damn you to hell!" she screamed, as the spined horror shattered into millions of tiny fragments.

Then, gunning the engine, Hanna spun the skimmer around and raced back to the base camp, her heart still beating furiously. Tears continued to stream from her eyes, but she angrily wiped them away. Now was not the time for weakness. People were counting on her. For their sake, she had to hold herself together just a little longer.

Hal had obviously felt it first, the almost imperceptible prickling sensation on the back of the neck that was often the first indication that something wasn't quite right. Carl had only just begun to notice it himself, when the sergeant threw him to the ground mere moments before a searing beam lanced over their heads and annihilated the skimmer in a ball of incandescent flame. Wasting no time, both men rolled onto their backs and unloaded their power rifles into the beam's source, a star shaped crystalline construct, which appeared to be powering up for another blast. Thankfully, the combined force of their weapons' fire blew it apart before it had a chance to unleash its next beam. However, the energy charge building up within the construct at the moment of its destruction meant that the ensuing explosion was considerably larger than either Hal or Carl had expected.

Razor sharp spikes of crystal shot through the air with blinding speed, slicing apart trees and boulders with equal effectiveness, but miraculously leaving Hal and Carl unscathed. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Carl watched in stunned silence as Hal slowly got to his feet, and made his way over to the cave entrance.

"What are you doing?" he asked incredulously. "We've gotta get out of here!"

But the sergeant didn't respond, and only moved deeper into the cave. Getting up to follow him, Carl stopped in his tracks the moment he reached the cave entrance. There before him knelt Hal, looking over the crumply bomb, or at least, what remained of it. A large crystal spike had sliced through a portion of the device, before embedding itself deep in the far wall.

"No…" Carl whispered, in utter despair. "The crumply bomb…"

"Is still intact," Hal replied, "but the timer's out of commission."

"The timer…" Carl said slowly, his eyes going wide, as he began to realize the magnitude of that statement.

"That thing tore the guts out of it," Hal continued somberly. "There's no way we can fix it."

"But, that means…" Carl breathed in stunned horror.

"It means that we need to stay here, until the appointed time, and then set the device off manually," Hal finished, grimly. "At least, if we want this plan to have any hope of succeeding."

"'Course, this might all be for nothing," he continued. "One of the other devices could've gotten completely totaled, making what we're planning on doin' absolutely pointless, but I've already decided that I'm in this 'till the end. How about you, Carl? You up for this?"

"You know I am," Carl replied.

"I always did want to go out in a blaze of glory," he continued with a humorless chuckle, "though I was hoping I'd be fighting Dappies. Still, I suppose these crystal bastards are the next best thing."

The sergeant smiled wistfully.

"Thanks Carl," Hal told him, as he gave his friend's hand a hearty shake. "I'm sure Tillie'd be mighty proud of you."

"Yeah," Carl agreed, returning the smile, "I know she would."

Hanna's racing heart had only marginally slowed by the time she returned to the base camp. Bringing her skimmer to a screeching stop, she leapt out of the vehicle, and hurriedly made her way inside. The fact that she hadn't seen any other skimmers set her already frayed nerves even more on edge. She supposed that she could have simply been the first to return, but considering recent events, that explanation seemed like a little too much to hope for. She called out to Vincent and Marcus as she strode swiftly through the entry corridor, but there was no reply. Rushing into the main chamber, Hanna froze in her tracks, as she caught sight of Marcus.

He was still lying upon the bunk in the chamber's small medical bay, his back propped up by some pillows. However, his head hung forward, limply, as if gazing down to examine the bloody hole in his chest.

"N-no…. Oh God, no…" Hanna whimpered, as her mind raced ever nearer to the edge of despair's yawing abyss.

Everything was falling apart. They were going to fail. Her friends were all going to die. It was over.

 _No,_ she told herself savagely, _I refuse to let it end like this!_

She was about to turn around, when she felt the barrel of a power pistol press itself firmly against the back of her head.

"Well, well… What have we here?" said the amused voice of Vincent Steinworth.

"It would seem that I have been presented with a _second_ sacrifice to offer to the sublime majesty and multifaceted glory of The Lord of All…"


End file.
